Window to the Past
by Multikirby-Chaos7
Summary: A story in the Multikirby Trilogy! Written, obviously, by Multikirby! A child with a problem wakes up as a puffball with complete and utter amnesia. It sounds boring and cliche, but it's better than it sounds, I promise. Conflict! Action! Longer chapters than the other two! Mockery! Irony! Lists! Quarters only! This is a Multikirby production.
1. Epilogue

"Window to the Past."

"Chapter 1: Epilogue."

"First of all, yes, I realize that the chapter titles are in quotes, not bolded or italicized, and aren't centered. But that's the only way I can get them up there. I'm sorry. I'm a little more limited than I was when I started writing. Things have gotten...uh...complicated.

"My name is Multikirby. Well, it...isn't, actually. I had a human name, but I haven't used it in a long time. So...I kind of forget it. But I used to be the author of No Pokeballs Allowed, Canon Fodder, and most recently, Window to the Past. And...yes. I said 'used to be'. As I said before, things have gotten complicated. If you've read the other two stories, you should probably already know what went wrong, and you'll probably be able to figure out how this story ends. For those of you that haven't read them...I'll just say that this story doesn't have a happy ending. Prince Phillip doesn't kiss Sleeping Beauty. Katniss doesn't win the Hunger Games. Harry Potter doesn't kill Voldemort. Hazel Grace doesn't get closure.

"Of course, those are all allusions. None of those people are in this story. This story, like the other two, is about a kid that gets brought into another world. But...this story's chapters were a bit longer, so I wasn't able to get them all out daily, like I did with the other two. Or, in your case, the story's chapters will be longer, and I won't get them out daily.

"In case some of you are confused, I'm writing this after the story's finished. For me, this is the last chapter of Window to the Past. For you, it's the first. So when you read this, you'll be looking back at a time when things were better. When I didn't have the guilt of murder hanging over my head, when I didn't have to worry about my best friend betraying me, when I didn't have to watch helplessly as my hard work was forcefully ripped away from me. I'm stuck here. You aren't. If you want, you can read these chapters over and over, and pretend that it didn't end like it did. I can't do that.

"...A lot of you probably think that I'm just a person sitting behind a computer, like you are. And...I wish I was. As I said, things have gotten complicated. And I don't have the time to tell you. This story, to me, was more than just something to post on FanFiction. These stories were my ticket back home. And now they're not. So...now they're just stories. But why am I telling you this? To you, they're still what they were to you; a story. So you can treat it the exact ...I just wanted to tell you...

"I wrote this chapter over the Prologue I'd written earlier, back when...you know. Don't worry, you aren't missing anything. I made this chapter to warn you that the story doesn't end well. Some of you might think it's a spoiler, but it's the journey that counts, right?...Look. I know this seems kind of pointless to you. But...I just wanted to tell you...

"This isn't how I wanted things to go. So...enjoy Window to the Past."


	2. Four

**Okay, enough of me talking. Let's get right into the story, shall we? S-shan't we? I dunno, which one sounds cooler?**

* * *

_**Window to the Past**_

_**Chapter 2: Four**_

Grass. She felt grass on her back. Did she fall asleep on the grass? No, she wouldn't. It'd leave stains. Her eyes flitting open, Alice quickly got up, attempting to brush her back in order to see if there were, in fact, grass stains.

_I...can't...reach,_ she noted angrily as she strained to scratch the supposed stains off. After two minutes or so of this charade, Alice decided it wasn't worth her time. At that moment, she realized that she had absolutely no idea what she looked like.

"What if I'm _ugly_?" she exclaimed, her face donning an expression of horror. Looking around wildly for some sort of reflective surface, her eyes locked onto a lake that was nearby. Breaking into a dash, she frantically made her way towards the lake. Alice skidded to a stop at the lake's shore and peered into the water.

The surface was a little distorted, due to the natural waves of the lake, but Alice was able to make out a bit of her reflection, and deduce what she looked like from that.

_Okay...Round body, weird...stubby things for hands? Uh...oh my God, those eyes are ADORABLE. Okay, okay, back on track. Shoe things? Are they shoes, or feet? And I'm orange. Orange. _Alice made a face. _Well, I could be mahogany. Or grey._

Stepping away from the lake, Alice heaved a relieved sigh. Whatever she was, she at least looked presentable. Then she frowned. "What am I, anyways? Was I always this...thing?" she asked herself aloud. "Maybe I have Anastasia. Or...anasthetics. Athletics? Antarctica?"

Alice sat down on the grass, deciding to forget about the issue for the time being. She decided, instead, to take a look at her surroundings.

The grass was green, and looked soft and springy, but was a little uncomfortable to sit on. The lake that beside her had relatively clear water, though the shore had rocks instead of sand. The horizon was lined with dark green mountains, which in turn were covered with what looked like pine trees. The sky was blue, with a few clouds strewn across the expanse, though Alice couldn't see a sun. She reasoned it was probably behind a cloud.

"Okay. I'm in a generic field. Now what?" she asked herself, rolling back so her eyes faced the sky. She laid there for a while, before remembering the grass stains. Alice got up quickly and sighed from boredom. She looked nonchalantly to her left and saw a small, unlabeled book where she had woken up. Walking over, she bent down to pick it up. Alice turned the book over in her grip, noting that it didn't really have any remarkable features about it. It was just a moderately thick brown book. Curious, she opened the book to see its contents.

The book was empty. There was an also unremarkable pen attached to the front cover, but all the pages within were absolutely blank. Lined, Alice noted, but blank.

Alice frowned, then remembered that she was totally and completely bored. So, she decided that this book would be her diary. _Because at this point, what else do I have to do? _she asked herself. She took the pen in her hand and began to write.

_Dear Diary,_

_Today I woke up with no idea what I was. And this seems weird to write, I know. It's like, uh...animosity. Anonymous? Anaconda? It's that thing that makes you forget everything. But I'm this weird orange blob thing. And I had to look in a lake to find that out. Imagine that, I forget what I look like so much that I describe myself as a 'weird orange blob thing'. But I'd rate myself a 9/10 on the cute scale. Unfortunately, this is the wrong kind of cute. It's not the cute you think when you see a guy you like. It's the cute you think when you see a baby or a puppy. And who wants to date a puppy? Only furries would date a puppy. I'll have to fix that soon. Who knows what kind of boys are here?_

_Actually, now that I write that, where am I? It's like this generic field. There's a lake, grass, and mountains. That's basically it. I don't see any signs of civilization. So I'm wondering if I'm going to have to go all 'survivor girl' to, uh, survive? But I've made up my mind, Diary. No matter what, even if I turn into a broomstick from starvation, I am not eating grass. Never in a million years._

_Do you sign diary entries? Is this the first time I've done it?...Stupid alamode._

_~Alice_

* * *

Toby woke sitting up, utterly confused. He looked around, bewildered.

_What happened? Where am I? What was I doing?_ He looked down in front of him. _What is that?_

He picked up the book in front of him. _Is this mine?_ he thought to himself. Turning the book over in his grip, he examined it closely. It was brown. There wasn't really anything he could recognize from the outside. So he opened it to see what kind of book it was. Maybe it was a mystery novel, or a

_Dear Diary,_

"Aah!" Toby exclaimed, dropping the diary on the grass. "I can't read it now!" he exclaimed. That was someone else's private thoughts! He couldn't read it now!

And so Toby sat down on the grass, unsure of what to do next. _I can't remember where this is. I can't remember that book. I can't remember who I am, or...well, really, the only thing I can remember is my name._

He looked around cautiously for any sign of danger. There was a lake to his left that he could drown in if he wasn't careful; he made a mental note to stay away from it. He examined the grass, wondering if there were any lethally poisonous bugs hiding there. He couldn't see any. He stole a look back at the diary.

_Maybe just one look..._Toby thought to himself, inching closer. Before he knew it, he was staring the lined pages in the face. _Oh...I'm going to hate myself for this..._

"Dear diary," Toby read quietly. As he continued through the passage, his eyes began to narrow. "Weird orange blob thing?" he whispered, attempting to look down at himself. He found that he couldn't, and gave an uneasy glance at the lake to his left. "She mentioned a lake, too..."

"Alice?" Toby called uneasily. "Alice, are you here? Hello?"

He listened for a response but didn't hear any. He went back to the diary and continued to read.

_Animosity? Alamode? Maybe she means amnesia-_ Toby thought, confused. _Maybe__ she means amnesia-_

Toby stopped. Amnesia. Forgetting.

That was him. He had amnesia. He was at least orange, he knew that. He stole another glance at the lake.

_No. I can't. No,_ he scolded himself. _I'm not going over there. If I do, I'm going to look in the water, I'm going to see I'm a 10/10 cute orange blob thing, freak out, fall in the water, and drown. No._

Instead, he picked up the diary. He picked up a pen that was lying on the ground. And for some reason, he began to write.

* * *

Adrian blinked twice, staring at the book and pen in his...hands..?

"What the...what the heck is this?" Adrian mumbled, waving the book about.

_Is this mine?_ he thought. _Why can't I...__Oh, God, no.I've got to remember something. My name's Adrian. I've got that. What else? I've got to know something else._

Adrian threw the book to the floor. _I've__ got to remember something. My name's Adrian. I've got that. What else? I've got to know something else. What am I? I don't know. Where am I? I don't know. What the hell is with this book? I...don't...freakin'...know._

Adrian cringed. He had amnesia. "Oh, well, this is just great. Just _GREAT! _Aaagghhh!" he screamed in frustration.

A rage-filled minute later, Adrian sat down on the ground quietly, running through the options in his head.

_What options? _he thought bitterly. _I've got nothing. I'm stuck in this freakin' field, next to this freakin' lake, beside this frickin' BOOK. AND I MADE UP THE FRICKIN' NAME ADRIAN._

The book sat beside him, mocking him. Read me, it seemed to call. Adrian didn't see a feasible reason to decline. He snatched the book off of the ground and began to read.

_Dear Diary,_

_Today I woke up with no idea what I was. And this seems weird to write, I know. It's like, uh...animosity. Anonymous? Anaconda? It's that thing that makes you forget everything. But I'm this weird orange blob thing. And I had to look in a lake to find that out. Imagine that, I forget what I look like so much that I describe myself as a 'weird orange blob thing'. But I'd rate myself a 9/10 on the cute scale. Unfortunately, this is the wrong kind of cute. It's not the cute you think when you see a guy you like. It's the cute you think when you see a baby or a puppy. And who wants to date a puppy? Only furries would date a puppy. I'll have to fix that soon. Who knows what kind of boys are here?_

_Actually, now that I write that, where am I? It's like this generic field. There's a lake, grass, and mountains. That's basically it. I don't see any signs of civilization. So I'm wondering if I'm going to have to go all 'survivor girl' to, uh, survive? But I've made up my mind, Diary. No matter what, even if I turn into a broomstick from starvation, I am not eating grass. Never in a million years._

_Do you sign diary entries? Is this the first time I've done it?...Stupid alamode._

_~Alice_

Alice. Who's Alice? Was she here earlier? She's obviously talking about this lake beside him. Adrian looked orange, too. Maybe they were twins. Adrian hid a smile before noticing the writing went on.

_Hey, Alice_

_I don't even know why I'm doing this. I just felt the weird compulsion to. I have this weird feeling that...oh, man, this is going to sound creepy. I feel like you're me. I don't even know if you can read this if you are me. I mean, I woke up next to a lake, like you said. I don't see any civilization, like you also said. I'm a 'weird orange blob thing' that is also cute (in my opinion, anyway). And you have amnesia. Like me. Maybe you made up the name Alice. I don't know what my name is yet. I'm going to have to sign this since this is more of a letter than a diary entry.  
_

_~Toby_

Adrian squinted. Amnesia. Orange. Lake. He shook his head as he started to connect the dots.

He didn't finish. Instead, he kept reading.

_Oh my God, YES! I made up my name! I woke up! This is, like, super freaky! Where are you? Is this a joke? Because I, like, passed out, and when I woke up, I was holding the diary and the letter was up there. This is...whoa. Okay. I'm going to wait for you to write back. ~Alice_

_I woke up holding the book, too. This is scary. Do...do you think it's healthy? Having more than one person in a body? Also are you sure you don't know anything about who you are? I mean, if you can't remember, that's fine, I'm sorry for asking. But if you can, please tell me, because I'm really scared. I'd tell you what I'm going through, but...you're going through the exact same thing, I guess. This is weird. ~Toby  
_

_OH MY GOD YOU WROTE BACK I CAN'T. My head feels like imploding right now! It's like, I have another person right there! Okay, you listen here, Toby. You'd better not do ANYTHING to mess me up. If I wake up with a black eye, I'm going to kill you. Because this is my body too, so you better not do anything reckless! This body is dangerous levels of cute and if you do ANYTHING to mess it up I will_

_I'm sorry! Did I do anything?! I swear I haven't punched myself or anything like that! I'm sorry! And...you didn't finish. Did I interrupt you too? _ I'm so sorry! ~Toby_

_I was a little harsh, yeah. But seriously. If we're going to be keeping this body, as long as you take good care of it, we'll be friends, okay? 3 So...any ideas of what to do no_

Adrian's heart beat quickly in his chest. His breath was fast. These people. They were him. He had a girl and a boy inside him. And they're writing letters to each other. His eyes were drawn to the pen on the ground. He spent a long time staring at that pen. Finally, he picked it up and began to write.

* * *

"Okay, who the hell are you two and what are you doing in my body?"

"There's another one?!" Alice exclaimed. "How many are there? Dude, what's your name? You'd better not do anything bad to this body either!"

"You were interrupted again, Alice...what were you saying? What should we do now? I don't know. We're in this field, and I don't see anything. Also, night is coming and I'm getting scared," Toby wrote.

"You're getting scared?" Adrian asked. "Great! I have a priss and a wuss in my body!"

"Priss? Excuuuse me! :P" Alice wrote angrily. "Maybe you're a priss, too, since we're the same person!"

"Shut up!" Adrian replied.

"Guys, we really should try to find some shelter...I don't want to be out here in the night," Toby wrote.

"Alright, fine. Will you stop whining if I make sure we're safe?" Adrian asked.

"Was I whining? I'm sorry," Toby apologized.

"You weren't whining. Adrian's just being a jerkface," Alice wrote.

"Maybe you're a jerkface too, since we're the same person," Adrian replied.

"Dear Adrian and Alice,

You guys have your differences, and your personalities clash a bit. That's fine. It's normal. But arguing like this is counterproductive. Toby's getting scared, and I believe it's in our best interest if we just help Toby out, so he isn't scared anymore. I hope we can get used to each other, and all become friends.

~Daphne"

"...Who's the chick writing in letter format?" Adrian asked, confused.

* * *

Daphne looked down at the diary, as she watched the pen write Adrian's letter. She waited impatiently for him to finish, then shoved herself to the front. She began to write. And speak.

"My name is Daphne, Adrian. I wrote my name up there earlier. Toby's right," she stopped, looking at the darkening sky. "We should find shelter. We don't know what these fields are like at night."

Daphne suddenly felt herself get pulled back. She let whoever was next come through.

* * *

"Daphne? How many people are in my head, anyways?! So...are you a girl too? And speaking of which, does anybody know whether this body's a boy or a girl?" Alice wrote.

"Guys, I think I see some lights behind us. It could be a village. Do you think maybe we could go there for the night?" Toby asked.

"What are you saying, 'your head'? How do you know this isn't _my_ head? Who says you're the boss here?" Adrian wrote.

"Because I woke up first. I claimed dibs or something. Point is, this is my body," Alice replied.

"Please don't fight, Adrian and Alice. You're going to be living in close quarters with each other. If you don't want to go insane, I'd suggest you get along. I'm getting along fine," Daphne advised.

"Insane? Funny you use that word when I HAVE A BRAIN THAT HAS FOUR PEOPLE IN IT. I'm pretty sure we've gone past the whitejacket checkpoint already," Adrian replied.

"Please! It's getting really dark and cold, and I hear scary noises!" Toby wrote largely, trying to get the other's attention.

"Yep, I'm going. I don't care about you two, but Toby and I are going to sleep somewhere warm," Alice asserted and closed the journal.

She huffed and stared at the journal, confused. She wasn't exactly sure what just happened. She also felt like she had accepted the fact way too easily. Nonetheless, Toby had a point, and she didn't want to be outside during the night, either. So she began walking towards the lights Toby had pointed out.

The others didn't seem to protest that much.

* * *

**So for those of you who haven't figured it out, the main character has amnesia and Dissociative Identity Disorder, more commonly known as Multiple Personality Disorder. I put a lot of research into this, so I'm really hoping it's accurate. I mean, it's a disputed mental disorder anyways, but still.**


	3. The Miller

**If you have any questions about Dissociative Identity Disorder, you can PM me. Or use Google. Google is your friend. But be careful.**

**Big Brother's Watching You...uh, whatever that means. I never said anything.**

* * *

_**Window to the Past**_

_**Chapter 3: The Miller**_

As the sun sank lower into the horizon, the grass began to take an orange hue. The evening air began to get progressively cooler, making Toby a little more uncomfortable. He had been walking for a while now, about fifteen minutes. The lights he had spotted earlier, while conversing with the others, didn't really seem to be getting much closer, which annoyed him a little. He began to worry about what the Adrian guy might do to him if these lights didn't help the way he thought they would.

"I want to survive just as much as you do, Adrian," Toby whispered, hoping somehow Adrian was listening. The grass began to fade from orange to purple as the sky began to get darker. Toby's ambling pace turned into a brisk walk as his fears of the dark began to get the better of him.

_At least I'm making progress,_ he thought as the lights on the horizon began to get brighter. Though they seemed to be getting dimmer as well. Toby found it strange, but flickering light was better than no light, so on he went.

The sun's harsh light was gradually replaced by the moon's softer glow. That, Toby noted, and the glow of the village. _Yeah, that's definitely a village,_ he thought, nodding to himself. He could make out the pointed roofs, the smoke from the chimneys, a loud crackling from the streetlights.

"Oh, so this is it?" Daphne asked, taking in her surroundings. "Toby was right. Huh. Well, that's good. That means Alice won't have to sleep on the ground, and Adrian doesn't have a reason to take vengeance on Toby for wasting our time. Might as well find a place to stay."

Daphne wandered up and down the empty cobble streets, looking for some sort of sign for a hotel of some sort. The cobblestone road was wet and seemed to reflect the light of the lampposts. Daphne called up and down the streets, listening for some sort of sign of life, but she didn't hear a thing.

_Weird...there should be at least _some_ people out and about at this time of night. _Daphne looked to the east, watching the moon slowly rise over the rooftops. _The sun's barely set. _She sighed, also noting that there didn't seem to be any sort of hotel in this entire village.

Adrian shivered, not used to the cold air. "What happened to the afternoon sun?" he mumbled. After noting that he was in a town of some sort, acknowledging Toby's correct intuition, he looked up and down the streets.

"Hey! Anybody awake and feeling generous? I am a poor soul in the middle of the night with no place to go and no friend to turn to!...Oi, anyone there?!" he yelled.

No response. He huffed angrily. "Great. The kid finds a village, and it's frickin' abandoned."

The sound of metal sliding behind a door startled him. He whipped around and was faced with the frazzled glare of a woman, peeking at him through a doorway.

"What are you doing out there?" she whispered harshly.

Adrian gave her an exasperated look. "I've been trying to find a living soul in this ghost town!"

"Shh!" she stressed, her eyes wide. "Don't talk so loudly! You'll attract their attention!"

"Whose attention?" Adrian demanded.

"They're dangerous, you know," she continued, ignoring Adrian's question. "You should get out of there. Otherwise, you'll be on the chopping block."

"What are you talking about!?" Adrian began to grow sick of this woman's cryptic way of speaking.

"Get off of the streets. The streets are scummy at night..." she whispered, not taking her eyes off of him.

Adrian saw an opening. "Okay. Fair enough. Get off the streets," he agreed, walking towards the girl and the doorway. "Maybe you could help with that? I mean, if you're going to go on about me getting off the streets, you should be willing to follow up and-"

"DON'T COME NEAR ME!" she shrieked, and suddenly Adrian was staring down the double barrel of a shotgun. "GET AWAY!"

Toby screamed in fear. He fell to the cobblestone road and began scrambling for footing. Finally, he found it, and he was off, running down the streets in a panic. He didn't look behind him, for fear of seeing the maniacal woman chasing after him.

_BANG!_

"AAAAUGH!"

* * *

Alice woke up with aches all over her body. Frowning in discomfort, she slowly opened her eyes.

She was in an alley, resting on a trash bag. A short yelp and a quick hop later, she was frantically checking herself for any sort of unknown substances.

_I am going to DESTROY THEM, _she thought angrily. Looking around for the journal, she began to form a scathing paragraph in her mind revealing to the others just how she felt about sleeping on top of a trash bag in an alley.

This paragraph combusted when she realized she couldn't find it. It wasn't anywhere near her. Alice pursed her lips.

"They sleep in an alley. They choose not only to sleep in an alley, but on top of trash. And they lose the journal. And the pen," she noted, anger lacing her tone.

A crackling filled the air. "ATTENTION CITIZENS. MEET IN FRONT OF BELL TOWER FOR DAY CYCLE."

Alice sighed in frustration. This was not going to be a good day. She stepped out of the alley and observed about five or six bleary-eyed people trudging to the right, down the street. She shrugged, and decided to follow them. She fell in step next to a woman. She looked down at her, and her eyes lit up in recognition.

"It's you," she breathed, "from last night."

Alice looked up at the girl. Her hair was all frazzled; she looked like she didn't make her appearance much of a priority. She clutched a shotgun in her hands; Alice wasn't sure what to make of it. Then what the woman had said registered in her mind. "Oh! Uh...if I did anything stupid, I'm sorry. I, uh, wasn't myself last night."

She narrowed her eyes. "How did you survive...?"

Alice blinked. "I-I'm sorry, what?"

The woman ignored her. Instead, she began counting on her fingers, mumbling to herself. Alice tilted her head in confusion.

"What are you doing?" Alice asked, in what she believed to be a polite tone.

The woman's head jerked upwards, then she turned back to Alice. "It's a game to him, you know. To the Mayor. It's all a game. He thinks it's funny," she gave sideways glances to the crowd in front of them as they walked. "But it's not a game. People die every night. But they're not getting me. I'll...I'll get them first."

Alice was even more confused now than she was before. "I blanked out at the word 'die'. What's going on here?"

"There's one left," she whispered. "If we kill the last one, we're free."

"Please," Alice tried again. "I'm new here. What's happening? Who are you trying to kill?"

The woman said nothing. She simply dug her hands into her pocket.

Alice sighed, and simply continued walking. Eventually, she saw the small field in front of the bell tower everyone had been summoned to. It was an unnerving sight.

In the field, there was a large circle of chairs. These chairs were quickly being occupied by the citizens of the village. Some of the chairs were already occupied by

_Oh my God. There are corpses in the chairs._

Numerous men and women were slumped over the chairs in various positions. They all had something in common; they either had a visible bullet wound somewhere on their chest or red marks around their throats. Alice began thinking about where the red marks could've come from, until she looked beyond the macabre circle, at the bell tower. But it wasn't really a bell tower.

Yes, there was a bell suspended underneath a wooden beam. But the bell wasn't the only thing hanging from the beam. Small hoops of rope swayed in the light breeze, chilling Alice to the core. It wasn't a bell tower.

It was a gallows.

Alice, in a daze, sat down in one of the chairs. She looked beside her, to see the paranoid girl she was walking with earlier. There was a man in the center of the circle, pacing.

He was dressed in a double-breasted suit and had a black newsboy cap on his head. The brim hid his eyes in shadow, but Alice could see his mouth was curved into a sly smirk. His shoes were polished to an almost blinding sheen, so much that it bothered Alice that he was wearing them in the grass. Once all the seats were filled, he lifted his head.

"There was another death tonight. The doctor was unable to save the victim this time. Raymond, an innocent villager, is dead," he said slowly, in a monotone voice. He pointed to a chair, and everyone followed his gaze. Slumped over a chair was a young man in a plaid jacket. A bullet hole was through his shirt. "There is one murderer left. Begin."

Alice turned to her neighbour. "What's happening?"

"You're a miller, aren't you?" she asked quietly. "Be careful what you say...millers are easy bait."

"What are you talking about?" Alice retorted. "You've been speaking in riddles this entire time!"

The woman pointed across the circle. "See that man?" Alice followed her gaze and saw a man in a white vest. He bore a very sour expression. "That's Hercule. If he has anything that has anything to do with you-"

Hercule stood up. "People! We have among ourselves a murderer! And I have a very good idea who it is!" He stormed across the circle, headed directly for a quickly paling Alice. He stopped two feet away from her and pulled out a journal. "Is this yours?" he asked, his voice laced with venom.

"You're toast," the woman breathed.

Alice stood up. Unfortunately, due to her stature and the height of the chair, she appeared shorter than she had when she was sitting down. She quickly jumped up and stood on the chair, which didn't really help either. "Where'd you get that!? It's mine! Did you read any of it?!"

Hercule thrust the book back to Alice, who snatched it from his hands. "This book was found outside the door of Cathy," Hercule continued, pointing at the woman beside Alice. "The door...that was only one block away from the murder!"

A collective gasp sounded around the circle, and Alice felt a lot more glares directed at her.

"Hold on, what?! I didn't kill anybody!" Alice protested. "I didn't! I don't even-"

_No, I can't say that. If I tell them I don't know what I was doing, they're going to rip me apart._

"I don't even...know Raymond all that well. Why would I kill him?" she finished uneasily.

Hercule huffed. "The Mafia needs no motive. They kill because they can."

Alice sat back in her chair. These people were going to kill her.

"Dang it, you guys," she whispered under her breath. "Why couldn't you have just behaved?"

"I saw this one wandering the streets in the middle of the night," Cathy said, jerking her head to indicate Alice. "After you tried to get into my house, I scared you off with this," she said, stroking her gun lovingly. "You dropped the book and ran away. As soon as you rounded the corner, I heard a gunshot and a scream."

"The gunshot was instantaneous with the accused rounding the corner?" Hercule inquired.

"My name is Alice!" Alice interjected.

Cathy nodded. "Yes, that's right."

Hercule turned back to Alice. "You rounded the corner, saw Raymond, and shot him in cold blood!"

Alice bit her lip, trying to come up with some sort of retort. Something clicked. "Cathy, other than the book, was I holding anything?"

Cathy looked straight at Alice, her eyes seeming to look straight through her. "...Yes. There was a pen in the binding of the book."

"This pen?" Hercule asked, holding a generic pen that he had taken out of his pocket. Cathy nodded.

Alice smiled. "Alright. I wasn't holding anything other than the journal and the pen, and I dropped it when I ran away from Cathy. Now, Hercule," she turned back to the angry gentleman next to her. "What did I shoot Raymond with?"

"A gun!" a small voice called from somewhere in the circle.

"Hmm..." Hercule put his hand to his chin, to appear in deep thought. "I don't suppose you have pockets, then?"

Alice looked down at herself. "Uh...I'm not even sure if I'm wearing clothes at all..."

It was at this point that Alice noticed something. All these people in the circle were one species. She couldn't really tell what they were, but they were all radically different from her. And yet they accepted Alice's appearance as mundane and ordinary.

"Alright, then. You're off the hook for now, Alice," Hercule said curtly. "However, should your name arise in suspicion again, I will not hesitate to volunteer you to be hung."

Alice nodded. That shouldn't be a problem. However, she was left wondering what did happen last night.

The meeting flew by like a blur. Names were called, and possibilities explored. A vote was reached; a man named Cecil would be hanged. The man in the center of the circle, revealed Cecil to be a doctor, then took him away. Slowly, the rest of the villagers dispersed from the circle.

Alice slumped back in her chair and released a breath. "I'm fine. I'm okay."

* * *

"WHAT DID YOU GUYS DO LAST NIGHT!? I almost got hanged for murder!" Alice wrote angrily.

"I don't know! One minute I was walking into the town, the next, this freaky woman was pointing a gun at my face!" Toby replied.

"I was only looking for some sort of place to stay. If someone did something incriminating, it wasn't me," Daphne wrote.

"Adrian, what did you do?! People were saying I shot somebody!" Alice accused.

"Hey, I was doing the same thing as Daphne, okay? That chick that nearly shot Toby? I was trying to get her to give us a place to stay! There are no frickin' hotels in this place, okay?" Adrian finished.

"Speaking of places to stay, which one of you geniuses slept in an alley?" Alice asked.

"Okay, I know it was one of you! I had to wipe this weird slime off of me! Who was it!?" Alice insisted.

"...Fine. Don't tell me. But we need a place to stay," she relented.

"What about the gun chick? You make nice with her?" Adrian asked.

"No WAY am I going back to her! She almost shot me! I heard a gunshot behind me!"

"...Behind you? Didn't you round a corner?" Alice asked, confused.

"No, are you kidding me? If I turned a corner, she would've caught up to pump me full of lead!" Toby insisted.

"But...Cathy said you rounded the corner," Alice trailed off.

"Alice, I recognize and understand that you're frustrated, but it's in the best interest of all of us to find a place to stay, because it's getting dark," Daphne wrote.

"Wait, what?" Adrian asked.

* * *

Adrian looked up from the journal. Somehow, the sun was setting.

"What?! It couldn't have been thirty minutes!"

"It's day...it's night...it's day...it's night..." Cathy whispered as she trudged past Adrian into her house. "Nothing in between..."

"Uh, hey. Do you think I could bunk with you tonight?" Adrian asked as he passed her.

"No...one house per villager," she shook her head absently. "Can't do it."

Adrian groaned but started wandering the alleys, looking for a suitable place to sleep. As the sky grew darker, the alleys became blackened, the awnings and roofs hiding the moonlight. From street to street, Adrian walked, passing the time by idly talking to himself.

Blissfully unaware of the serial killings going on.

Adrian stretched his back, resting against the wall of what looked like a shop. "At least it's warmer tonight than it was last night..."

His eyelids began to grow heavy. Adrian felt the pull of sleep inviting him to engage in inactivity. He attempted to fight it off, but finally gave up. He slumped down on the wall and closed his eyes.

He was woken up by the sound of footsteps. He opened one eye, to survey what had made the noise. He didn't move; not yet. There was some sort of figure in the light of the lamppost, a shadow.

And it was holding a gun.

Adrian stood up warily. "Who's that?" he asked, calling to the figure.

It didn't respond. At least, not in words. Instead, the butt of the gun lifted off of the cobblestone road, and under the arm of the suspicious individual.

"Listen, you put that gun down or I'm going to show you mine," Adrian threatened.

_Chug-CHUCK_

The cocking of the gun meant no more kidding around. It was fight-or-die. And Adrian chose to fight.

Reacting quickly, Adrian darted away from the wall just as he heard the crack of the gun. Refusing to look behind him, he cringed as he heard the shatter of a window behind him. He instead chose to focus on his assailant, who had already moved away from the streetlight, bathing them in darkness. Adrian stopped. He knew that they had to cock their gun again before they could shoot. He just had to listen for that.

_Chug-CHUCK_

He turned around, jumped, and aimed to kick whoever was there. But there wasn't anyone. Another shot rang out, and Adrian winced as he heard something whiz past his head. The gunman had missed their mark, but Adrian once again heard the cock of the gun.

"You don't waste any time, huh?" he asked wryly.

Whoever it was didn't respond. Adrian heard footsteps running to his left. It was at this point he realized he was in the light. If he was going to survive, he'd need to copy the gunman's tactics. He stepped away from the halo of light, into the shadows. He knew this tactic wouldn't last long, but he just needed to get his eyes used to the darkness. He began darting back and forth as fast as he could to throw off the aim of his attacker.

_BANG_

_Okay. There was a bang. No pain. That's good,_ he noted. He was beginning to see shapes in the darkness. Sparks flew from midair as the sound of the gun cocking once again filled the silence.

"How much ammo do you have?!" he yelled. Another shot. This time, Adrian felt a searing pain as something grazed his side. He needed to go on the offensive.

He once again began running, but now he had a target. That shape began moving again, and he saw sparks fly as the cocking of the gun once again rang out.

_Gotcha,_ he thought, smirking. He began pumping his feet harder against the cold cobblestone, and when he felt he was close enough, Adrian launched himself into the air. He swung his foot forward and felt it hit its target. The assailant crumpled under the sudden impact and fell to the ground. Adrian landed and eyed the body carefully. He began approaching slowly, to make sure they were at least unconscious.

The gun raised, and Adrian was once again staring down the barrel of a loaded gun.

* * *

**If you can guess the namesakes of Hercule and Cathy, I'll be impressed. Moreso if you guess Cathy, because the namesake is nothing like the character. The Cathy I named her after does not own a gun.**


	4. Corrections and Corruptions

**For those of you who haven't guessed the namesakes (which I'm pretty sure is almost everybody), Cathy is named after the newspaper comic character Cathy from the comic...'Cathy', by...Cathy Guisewite. It pokes fun at culture from the 80s to the 2000s, and the author likes lists. LOVES lists.  
**

**Hercule, on the other hand, is named after Hercule Poirot, the famed Belgian detective from a majority of Agatha Christie's books. By the way, did you guys know that they made an ANIME from Agatha Christie's books? I know! They made Poirot look like Mario!**

* * *

**_Window to the Past_**

**_Chapter 4: Corrections and Corruptions_**

"Chaos, we need to talk," I looked up from the computer screen I was using to make this story. "Look. I know you love being co-author and all that. But the way the last chapter ended...I dunno, it seems a little...inescapable for me."

My co-author looked at me in confusion. "What do you mean? Adrian could totally escape that!"

I folded my arms. "Really? Because right now he's facing a loaded gun. How does he escape that?"

"Well, uh..." Chaos rubbed the back of his head. "He could...maybe...kick it."

"Kick what?"

"The gun."

"He could kick the gun. That's your solution."

"Y-yeah. He could kick the gun. He's not incapacitated or anything."

Rubbing my temples, I sighed. "Alright, Chaos. You're good at combat. Really, you are. But...I'm going to need you to approach these things with a little more subtlety."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Chaos nodded. "Well, I'll just go and undo that, then-"

"Wait, no! You can't undo it!" I yelled.

Chaos folded his arms. "Why not?"

"People wouldn't go back and read it again unless we told them to," I explained.

"So we tell them to read it again-"

"And what about the people who read it after it's changed? We waste their time by telling them to reread something they've already read. Besides, I just...I don't like changing things."

"Fine," Chaos shrugged. "But then it's on you for a solution, Multikirby. After all, you're the _MAIN_ author."

"No, I'm not," I said, dismissing his thought. "We're equals!"

Chaos raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything more.

Satisfied, I turned back to the computer and began writing again. Then I stopped. "Are we still doing this?"

Chaos smiled. "You think I'm going to stop because I messed up once? If we quit after one mistake, you'd be out of here twenty times over already!"

I waved his statement off and began to write again.

Oh, yeah, I should probably mention this. I'm the author. Multikirby. Chaos is my co-author. And...wait, didn't I run over this stuff in the prologue? Eh, whatever. Anyways...

* * *

_The gun raised, and Adrian was once again staring down the barrel of a loaded gun. _His eyes wide with fear, his body frozen in shock and terror, he scrunched his eyes shut, waiting for the inevitable

_click_

Adrian's eyes opened slowly. _There was a click. What does the click mean? There's...no more bullets..._ Adrian stood up. "There's no more bullets! Ha! You lose, you son of a-"

_THWACK_

* * *

"She's going to be fine. Alice, I think her name was."

Daphne cringed; the voice was loud, and her head hurt. What did he say? Alice? He thought she was Alice?

"Who attacked her?"

"I don't know. She had signs of blunt force trauma on her body, but nobody was nearby when I found her."

_What the heck happened? _she asked herself. _Blunt force trauma? Was I attacked? _Daphne forced her eyes open, and slowly looked around her current location.

She was in a small room with a bed, which she was currently resting on. She was surrounded by a curtain, and she saw two silhouettes on the other side. They seemed to be talking about what happened to Alice.

_Where's the book?_ she thought. There were two small counters on either side of her, but they were both bare; her journal was nowhere in sight. Daphne furrowed her eyes in frustration. She was effectively cut off from her alters, and therefore what happened to make her end up in this bed.

_What should I do now? _Daphne stared up at the ceiling. _I don't have the journal, and I'm in a hospital bed while two people talk about me being attacked behind a curtain. Hmm...Maybe they know what happened._

"Um, excuse me?" she asked, watching the two shadows turn to the curtain. She watched a hand materialize in front of the curtain, and pull it away. Standing there were two men she didn't recognize.

"Oh, Alice! You're awake!" the man in the white vest exclaimed.

Daphne, with some quick thinking, decided that she would pretend she was Alice. These two didn't need to know about the others. She nodded. "Yes, I am. But..." she gestured to her surroundings. "Why am I here?"

The other man stepped forward. "You were attacked by the Mafia last night. It's quite extraordinary, actually - you made it out without any fatal wounds!"

"..._Fatal_ wounds? So I did get hurt?" Daphne asked slowly.

The man in the white vest nodded. "Yes, er...on your side. A bullet must have grazed you."

Daphne shifted her view to her right and saw some bandages wrapped around her side. She cringed, her mind imagining what the others probably did to get this. "I see. And...sorry, you said Mafia? Who is this Mafia? Why did they attack me?"

The man in the white vest blinked. "I told you yesterday, Alice. At the trial. The Mafia do not need a reason to kill. Do you not remember?"

_Here's my chance..._she thought. "Remember? Remember what? And...who are you again?"

"She must have amnesia..." the other man whispered.

The white vested man nodded. He turned back to Daphne. "My name is Hercule. Do not say this to anyone else, but...I am this town's doctor. The other doctor, Cecil, was, unfortunately, executed yesterday. How much do you remember?"

"Well, I remember coming into this town during the night. I was looking for a place to stay, and..." Daphne trailed off. This _was_ the end of her first-hand knowledge. Pretending to have no memory could give her a better idea of what happened. After all, the alters have...strange ways of perceiving things, and Daphne wasn't about to count on their accounts alone.

Hercule nodded. "So you don't remember past the first night...Alright. I'll remind you what happened since then."

He continued to tell Daphne about the events of the first night, and the trial. "This town is very strange, you have to understand. We all want to leave, desperately, but unfortunately cannot until each member of the Mafia is apprehended and executed. We do not know which of us is guilty, which is why we hold the trials every day. Many innocent lives have been lost..." Hercule stopped speaking and heaved a sigh.

Daphne nodded, beginning to understand. "That's why you don't want me to tell anyone that you're a doctor. You become a target, right? But...if you don't know who the Mafia is, how can you tell me you're a doctor, when he's right there? Couldn't he be a member as well?"

The other man shook his head. "I'm Steven. I was attacked one night, too. Cecil saved me. And since Mafia can't attack themselves, the town now knows I'm innocent."

Daphne, once again, nodded. "But...what happened last night?"

"We found you lying on the street alone, with a very nasty bruise on your head. Luckily, you hadn't expired yet," Hercule explained.

"You wouldn't happen to have my...journal, would you?" Daphne asked.

Hercule pulled the book out of his pocket and showed it to her. "I apologize for suspecting you; you have to understand, any sort of lead seems incriminating. Here, I'll return this to you."

"Thanks," Daphne said, taking the journal. "And, uh...my head kind of hurts. Do you think you can leave me be for now?"

Steven looked at Hercule, then back at her. "Sure, but remember, you have to be at the meeting when the Mayor calls for it."

Hercule and Steven left the room, leaving Daphne alone with the journal.

* * *

"Okay, I'm not angry, but I'm curious. What happened last night?" Daphne wrote. "Did any of you get attacked?"

"That would be me," Adrian answered. "I was just trying to sleep, though, when this motherhubbard just comes up and tries to shoot me for no reason!"

"Hey, we're in a hospital," Toby wrote. "Does anyone mind filling me in, if that's okay?"

"Yes, I agree," Alice wrote. "We should have some sort of way to let everyone catch up. What if we write something like diary entries?"

"If you think I'm going to write 'Dear Diary' every time I find a penny on the ground, you're sorely mistaken. I am NOT writing diary entries," Adrian wrote firmly.

"Don't think of them as diary entries, then," Daphne said. "Think of them as newspaper stories. Remember, this is for all of our benefit."

"Okay, fine. Why don't you start if you've got such a good grasp on the situation? Why are we in a sick ward?"

"Hercule brought me here after finding me unconscious on the street. Apparently I'd been whacked on the head with something. He says it was a Mafia attack."

"Mafia? What the heck is Mafia?"

"I think you and I are the only ones that know about it, Daph," Alice guessed. "Do you want me to explain it?"

"Yes, please. I would appreciate that very much, Alice. Thank you," Daphne wrote.

* * *

"I'm not going through that again," I stated adamantly.

Chaos peered past me at the screen. "You're breaking the flow. This is being written, you know. What we're saying?"

"Wait, what? Really?" Turning around, I looked at the words. Sure enough, there it was. What we're saying.

Weird.

"So...I guess that means we're characters?" I guessed.

Chaos nodded.

"Cool."

"Yeah, but something's bothering me," Chaos said slowly, his eyes still glued to the computer screen.

"What would that be?" I asked.

"Our actions are in past-tense."

* * *

"Okay, Adrian, your turn. What happened last night?" Alice asked after finishing.

"I was trying to sleep against the side of a building, and I hear footsteps. I look up, and see this dude in the street, and he's holding a gun. Although I probably shouldn't say 'he', because...I guess it could've been that gun chick too. Anyways, she suddenly starts shooting at me. And I'm in the street, trying to dodge these bullets flying at me, and then I get shot in the side. You guys have probably noticed that by now. And then I jump up and kick her in the head...somehow, and I walk over to see if I knocked her out or something. She raises the shotgun to my head and fires. It's out of bullets, and so...I guess she just hit me with it instead."

"Oh...well, did you get a good look at who it was?" Daphne asked.

"Nah, it was too dark. I didn't even know whether it was a dude or a chick. I wanna say it's the paranoid lady, because she's the only one that I _know_ has a gun. But it could've been anybody," Adrian admitted.

"What do we do now, then?" Toby asked.

"Hercule said to listen for an announcement from the Mayor," Daphne wrote.

"Yeah, that's how I came to the first trial. There was this announcement to meet at the bell tower. But it's not a bell tower, it's a gallows. Y'know, where they HANG PEOPLE," Alice added.

"We know what a gallows is, Alice!" Adrian retorted.

"So...do we just wait for

* * *

"ATTENTION ALICE. COME TO THE BELL TOWER PLAZA IMMEDIATELY."

Toby looked up from the journal. By Alice, he knew they meant him.

"Guys," he wrote in the journal. "The announcement just came on. What should I do?"

Toby sat back, and waited for the journal to fill itself out. But it didn't happen. He sat there, staring at the journal for five minutes, waiting for someone else to write something.

Nothing happened.

Finally, Toby picked up the pen again and began to write. "Guys, I really don't want to do this...he seemed really mad, and I know the least about what's going on. Please don't make me do this!"

"ATTENTION ALICE. COME TO THE BELL TOWER PLAZA IMMEDIATELY. THIS IS YOUR LAST CALL."

Toby suddenly felt sick to his stomach. "Please," he murmured. "Don't make me do this..."

No response. He slowly got out of bed, and let his feet lead him out of the small hospital, to the bell tower plaza on the other side of the street. When he got there, he looked up solemnly. There was a man in a double-breasted suit standing in the middle of the plaza. A large hat blocked his eyes from Toby's view.

"...Are you the Mayor?" he asked timidly.

"Yes. And you are Alice."

It was more a statement than a question. Somehow he knew. The Mayor's voice was calm and monotonous, devoid of any emotion at all. Toby decided it'd be easier if he just went along with being called Alice.

"Y-yessir."

"You don't know why I brought you here."

"No, sir," Toby agreed. Another statement. This guy seemed to know everything.

"Last night, you were targeted to die by the Mafia. You were also targeted to be saved by the doctor. So by all accounts, you should be alive. But there is a problem," the Mayor trailed off. Toby got the feeling he wasn't even looking at him. "You are a Miller. You are not a Strongman. Therefore, when the Mafia attacks you, you are not allowed to fight back. You were to be shot, and saved by the doctor. But you were not shot and fatally wounded. You attacked the Mafia. Which is against the rules."

"I...I didn't know there were rules," Toby apologized, trying to hide his shock about not being allowed to defend yourself. "I'm sorry."

"Nonetheless, you are a rulebreaker. And all rulebreakers shall be executed by the moderator. No exceptions. Come with me."

Toby's heart sank. He was going to die.

"Please...don't let me do this alone..." he whispered, tears lining his eyes as he followed the Mayor up onto the gallows.

* * *

**Did you know? There are actually two types of amnesia: retrograde and anterograde. Retrograde, the one we're more familiar with, is the inability to remember things from your past. This can vary from being unable to recall yesterday, to being unable to recall whole decades. Only in very rare cases do you actually forget as much as your identity and species. So Coran and this kid won the Lottery of Suck with their cases of amnesia.**

**The other kind, anterograde amnesia, is actually much more common than the other type; this disorder makes it hard for your brain to transfer memories from short-term to long-term. It _is_ possible to have both types at the same time. Both amnesia types are, usually, temporary and are NOT cured by being bonked on the head a second time. Again, cases that don't wear off after a day or so are extremely rare, so kudos to all those protagonists who have somehow gotten the worst type of amnesia possible. Retrograde (rare) amnesia (also rare) that does not wear off easily or at all (extremely rare). All this? SO FLIPPIN' RARE.**

**This has been Random Facts with Multikirby.**


	5. More Than Four

**These things at the top, though they sometimes have other purposes, are usually only here to keep the title below centered. Because otherwise, the chapter select dropdown would push it to the left.**

* * *

_**Window to the Past**_

_**Chapter 5: More Than Four**_

Toby silently followed the Mayor up the wooden steps to the gallows. He couldn't hang, could he? He didn't have a neck.

The Mayor pulled out a syringe. Toby began to cry.

"P-please...don't make me go through this..." he begged to anyone who was listening. "I'm innocent...I don't want to die, please...anyone...help me..."

The Mayor advanced on him, taking slow measured steps. "It will be quick; I do not enjoy making others suffer. The pain should last around three and a half seconds. That's how long the others had writhed for before becoming still. It's an estimate, but fairly accurate."

"H-how many have you killed?" Toby asked lowly, refusing to look the Mayor in the eye.

The Mayor raised an eyebrow, not that Toby could see it. "I do not kill them. The town does. They choose who to kill, they choose who is innocent and who is guilty. I simply carry out their orders. The only murder I've ever committed on my own accord," he raised the syringe, the metal tip glinting in the sunlight, "...is this one. Hold still."

"Please, just wait!" Toby cried. "Can't I have a last request?"

The Mayor lowered the syringe carefully. "I hope you know I will not grant something such as 'let me go free'."

"I, uh...I want a phone call," Toby said. _  
_

The Mayor nodded and stepped down from the gallows. He motioned for Toby to follow, and they stepped into City Hall behind the Bell Tower.

_A phone call? _Toby thought in confusion. _Why did I want a phone call? It's...it's just to stall for time, isn't it?_

"Okay, guys," he whispered harshly. "I don't have a lot of time left, and I'm scared. Really scared. I don't know if you can hear me, but I really hope one of you has a way out of this...Please, just...somebody help me..."

..._ring ring ring..._

The Mayor opened a door to reveal an empty room with only a table and a phone. The Mayor, seemingly ignoring the ringing, gestured to the phone. "You have five minutes."

Toby carefully walked up to the phone.

_...ring ring ring..._

He climbed up onto the table and took the phone off the hook. He put it to the side of his head, and somehow, he heard the voice of...of...

"Hey, kid, are you okay? Can we talk?"

Suddenly the five minutes he had been given didn't matter. All of Toby's thoughts of his imminent doom were forced from his mind. His eyes widened in recognition. That voice was someone he had talked to before. Someone he had spoken to about problems. That voice was a source of comfort. A shelter.

"...Dad?" he whispered.

"You know we love you, your mother and I. And we care about you. And I know you care about us, too. But I can't help thinking that you think the world's against you. And...it is. It's against all of us."

Toby tried to interrupt. "Dad, wait! I'm going to be killed! Please, just-"

"The world isn't fair to anyone. But what matters is what you do with it. Life is going to give you lemons. Not only that, it's going to cut them into slices and squirt the juice into your eyes. But if you wipe that juice off, get back up and keep going...Sorry. I know you don't like it when I get preachy. I'll talk to you later."

"Wait! Dad, no! There isn't going to be a later! I'm going to be-"

_click_

Toby slowly removed the receiver from his head. He looked at the phone through tears that had suddenly formed at the corner of his eyes. He stood there, on the table, motionless. The Mayor snapped him out of his stupor.

"The call is over, Alice. It is time. Follow me to the Bell Tower, please."

_Somebody...anybody...help me, please..._

* * *

"Alice the Miller. Do you realize and recognize the crimes of which you have been accused?"

Tears flowed freely down Toby's face. This was it.

_Somebody, please help me!_

"...Yes," he forced out.

"Do you deny these crimes?"

Toby felt the overwhelming urge to do just that, but it would have been pointless. Although he himself had not committed the crimes, and he was not aware they were crimes in the first place, for all intents and purposes, he had resisted.

_Anyone, PLEASE! I don't want to die!_

"...No."

Toby watched in fear as the Mayor raised the syringe, filled with a sickly liquid, and began to lower it.

"It is decided, then. Goodbye, Alice the Miller."

"Who's Alice?"

David blinked in surprise, the sudden sight that filled his vision throwing him off guard. He had just heard something about Alice and blurted it out. He saw a man in front of him, in very dark clothes. He was holding a syringe in his hand, and had a very shocked look on his face. David's eyes focused on the syringe.

"What's that for?" he asked.

The man seemed to regain his composure. "You," he said.

"Me?" David asked. "Why would I want a shot?"

"It is of no choice of your own," the man said.

"Oh," David said, nodding. "What's your name?"

The man once again stopped. "I do not give out my name to anyone."

"Really?" David asked again. "Well, uh...what do people call you? 'Guy? Or 'Buddy'? Or...uh...'dude'?"

"Many refer to me as the Mayor," he said.

"Oh," David said again. "Well, my name's David. I think."

"David?" he asked, confusion creeping into his voice. "I believe I had heard your name was Alice."

"Yeah, you said that, didn't you? Where'd you get Alice? I'm a boy!...At least, I think I am," David said doubtfully.

"Is this a joke?" the Mayor asked.

David stared blankly at him. "...No. But if you want, I could tell you one. Uh...okay. Why didn't the chicken cross the road?"

The Mayor simply stared at him.

"Say why."

"...Why?"

"Because he was hit by a truck!" David finished, trying to hold back his laughter. When he noticed the Mayor wasn't laughing, he stopped. "Boy, mister, you need to be happy."

Again, the Mayor was silent. Suddenly, he pointed at a book next to David. "Is that yours?"

"This book?" he verified as he picked it up. David turned it around in his grip, examining it. "I don't remember it. What is it? 'Dear Diary'...AAGH!"

David sharply dropped the book as if it was suddenly on fire.

"It's a diary! Why would I have a diary?!" he yelled.

"This diary is yours. You were seen with it on numerous occasions."

"Seen with it? The first thing I remember is you pointing that shot at me!" David protested.

The Mayor said nothing. Instead, he sighed. "You...somehow, you aren't Alice, are you?"

"Somehow?" David repeated.

"I cannot execute a child. I only made that mistake once, and...her screams haunt me to this day. You may go."

"Wait, that shot was going to _kill me?_" David emphasized, horrified._  
_

The Mayor didn't answer. Instead, he continued. "You must leave this town, and tell no one of your departure. And you must never tell anyone on the outside of this town, or what happens here."

"Okay," David nodded. "But where do I go? I mean, I haven't eaten for a while-"

"I am showing you mercy," the Mayor growled. "I advise you do not push your luck."

Fear crept into David's eyes as he stared at the man one more time. "Okay," he whispered. Slowly, David bent down and picked up the diary. David stepped down from the Bell Tower and kept walking until he felt grass instead of cobblestone under his feet. He looked back, but he saw nothing except meadow.

_Weird, _he thought. Sitting down on the grass, David sighed sadly. He was hungry. He had no place to go. And his only belonging was that diary.

He opened it again and began to read out of curiosity.

"Who are these people? Were they in this town, too?" he asked himself aloud. "Maybe...I wonder if I should..."

David picked up the pen and began to write.

* * *

"Uh...who are you guys?"

"Wait, I'm not dead!? How am I not dead? That guy was gonna give me a lethal injection, and I blacked out!" Toby wrote.

"Lethal injection? I thought you were gonna be hanged," Adrian replied.

"How would you even hang a body like this?" Alice asked. "Do I even have a neck?...This is weird."

"Whoa, there's more! The diary writes in itself! My name is David! What's your name, magic diary?"

"...David?" Adrian wrote. "Who the heck is David? Anyone here know a David?"

"No, Adrian. I'm sorry. I don't know anyone called David," Daphne answered. "Maybe he's new."

"Can there be new ones? How many of us _are_ there, anyways? And I hope he knows not to dirty up this body!" Alice wrote angrily.

"What do you mean 'this body'?" David asked. "Am I near you? Where are you guys?"

"How old are you? I mean, I can't really tell. Wait, shoot, that's offensive, isn't it?" Toby wrote hastily. "I hate using a pen!"

"I'm ten!" David answered happily. "How old are you, Toby?"

"Man, I can barely read this guy's handwriting! What is he, ten?" Adrian scoffed.

"Yes, Adrian, I think that's what he just told us," Daphne affirmed.

"Come to think of it," Alice wrote, "How old are we, anyways? I mean, I'm pretty sure I'm, like, sixteen or something."

"I've gotta be twenty-two," Adrian wrote. "So that'd make me the leader."

"Dude, you aren't a day over fifteen with that jerk face way of speaking," Alice retorted.

"Shut the hell up!"

"Adrian, control yourself. David is only ten years old," Daphne chided.

"You remind me of that shot guy," David remarked.

"You mean the Mayor?" Alice asked. "Daphne reminds you of the Mayor?"

"Yeah. He didn't laugh at my joke, but he let me go because he didn't want to kill a kid."

"...You got away from that dude killing you?" Adrian wrote slowly. "I'm...actually impressed."

"Oh! Guys, I forgot to mention something!" Toby wrote. "Here's an update. We're doing these now, right?

I got a last request, and for some reason I chose phone call. When I got there, the phone was already ringing. And when I picked up, I heard my dad! I don't know how I know, but I do! It was him! He was saying...something about my mom, and that life was unfair, but we had to keep going, or something. I'm sorry I can't do it word for word, but I heard dad! It was him!"

"This is going to sound weird, but I think I remember that, too," Alice agreed. "Now that you say it, I actually remember that. The phone call."

"So we have a father," Daphne remarked. "Wow. That's surprising."

"What, you thought we use binary fission or something?" Adrian retorted.

"Hey, guys...I'm kind of hungry," David butted in. "Where do we go now?"

"I have no idea. Toby, you see anything?" Adrian wrote.

* * *

Toby looked up from the journal after seeing Adrian's request. He frowned; he couldn't see anything except meadow. He told them so, and that he'd start walking, hoping to come across something.

As he walked across the grass, Toby thought about David, the new one. _So there's more than just us four, huh? And he saved us from being killed...I wonder how many of us there are...__  
_

And he continued along the meadow as the sun beamed down high above him, hoping to find some kind of comfort from the expansive meadow.

Little did he know that he wouldn't be getting any sort of comfort for a long, long time.

* * *

**Sorry this one took so long; I was about to upload it, and then it deleted three quarters of the chapter. But it's up now, so...yay.**


	6. Nightfall

**I just noticed the chapter 'More Than Four' was also Chapter 5. So...unintentional pun, maybe?**

* * *

_**Window to the Past**_

_**Chapter 6: Nightfall**_

Grass. Sky. Distant mountains. Flower. Grass. More mountains. More flowers. No water.

Alice's feet were already tired when she came forward, so she assumed they had been walking for a while. The journal didn't have any sort of monumental update, so she knew absolutely nothing of interest has happened. And nothing of interest was happening.

Alice guessed nothing of interest would be happening anytime soon. The sun was still high, still beating down on her. She noted with dissatisfaction that she was sweating.

"Ugh," she groaned. "Gross..."

And yet she kept walking forwards, hoping to find some sort of landmark, something to tell her that she was getting somewhere, but she only saw grass, sky, and the distant mountains.

As the day dragged on, the five of them switched almost randomly. They all knew what to do without being told. They had to walk. To find someplace to stay, before the night came.

David looked up at the sky. It was tinted a pinkish orange from the sun setting in the west. His eyes begging for rest, David swept his vision across the meadow, looking for some place to sleep. His eyes locked onto a medium-sized tree ahead. Mindlessly, he began moving forward, his feet dragging against the grass. The tree loomed over him as he turned around and laid down with his back against the tree. His eyes closed, and David began to sleep.

* * *

You couldn't breathe. You tried to figure out why, but you couldn't breathe. Grabbing frantically at your mouth, you tried to pull away whatever it was that was suffocating you, but you couldn't. There was nothing there and you couldn't breathe.

Something cold was surrounding your body. Cold like ice, whipping you about like a rag doll in the hands of a child. Something hard hit your knee as pain coursed through your entire body. You wanted to scream. But you couldn't. Something cold entered your mouth, and you gulped it down. You still couldn't breathe.

Which way was up? Your body was spinning, robbing you of your sense of direction. Forcing your eyes open, you saw only blackness. Your head began to feel light as your chest started to scream for air. Your body spun faster and faster as the feeling of death was brought closer and closer.

Flailing your arms in a panic, you tried to grab onto something to stop your uncontrollable movement. Your hands touched stones, but as easily as you grabbed onto them, they slipped away. Without thinking, you started screaming again. Something cold filled your lungs as you began to choke. And still you were whipped about, and still you couldn't breathe.

* * *

Daphne gasped, filling her lungs with sweet air as she was jolted awake. Breathing heavily, she surveyed her surroundings.

It was nighttime, and stars once again filled the sky with their light. Looking behind her, she saw a small tree. Someone must've found it, and had decided it was a good place to rest. Daphne noted with disdain that the others had neglected to eat or drink. She got up, stretched, and sighed.

"Maybe there's some fruit in the tree," Daphne thought out loud.

With the grass rustling behind her, Daphne jumped as high as she could and gripped the trunk for all she was worth. Making sure she was secure, she began to climb. Upon reaching the leafy branches, Daphne frowned. Fruit did hang from the limbs of the tree, but whatever kind of fruit it was, it was obvious that it was unripe.

A cool wind blew through the tree, rustling the leaves and giving Daphne a chill. She shivered, then climbed back down. With nothing better to do, Daphne decided to write in the journal.

"Here's an update for the rest of you. Somebody found a tree for us to sleep under. The tree has fruit, but it's unripe, so we can't eat it. I'm getting hungry (I assume that means you are, too), and thirsty, so we should find some source of food soon."

Daphne sat back and waited. _Maybe I should just go to sleep again,_ she thought. Her eyes slid shut, and she was lulled back to sleep by the rustling grass behind her.

Suddenly, she jolted awake. Something was behind her. Slowly turning her vision, Daphne saw darkness behind her.

_Where's the tree?_ Daphne's eyes remained locked on the black mass, and as she clutched the journal close, she began to back up slowly. The grass crunched under her feet, but the black thing didn't seem to be getting any further away.

"What are you?!" she screamed. As if a gun went off, the darkness somehow launched itself into the air before rapidly descending towards Daphne. With a shriek, she took off running, desperately trying to get away from the malicious creature. Daphne heard no noise, except for her hurried breathing, her racing heart, and the frantic yet rhythmic thud of her feet against grass. Stealing a glance backwards at her assailant, she saw it...crawling towards her. Her eyes widened in fear as it began to jump again. Suddenly, her legs seized up; she could run no longer. Daphne fell to the ground and rolled on her back. The dark mass was descending upon her. She squinted her eyes shut and waited for the inevitable.

* * *

"Chaos," I said crossly. "You'd better have a way out of this."

Chaos nodded, waving my comment off. "Yeah, yeah. This time, I do. Don't worry your precious little head. I've got this under control; you go handle the other two stories. You're behind on them, anyways."

I huffed but said nothing. He was right. "I don't want to read this later and find out she's dead, okay?"

Chaos only gave a grunt of acknowledgement.

* * *

Something hard and wet hit Daphne hard. Somehow, she was swept up into the unknown object. Flailing wildly, she fought for her freedom from this mass of...water. It was water. Daphne couldn't breathe.

Her eyes stung, but she forced them open. She had to get out of here before she suffocated. Trying desperately to propel herself forward, Daphne kicked her feet spazmatically in the mass. She was getting nowhere. She was trapped here, inside this creature. There was nothing she could do about it. Defeated, Daphne let out a final breath and closed her eyes.

The first thing Adrian realized is he couldn't breathe. The second thing he realized was that he probably hadn't been able to breathe for the past few minutes. The third thing he realized was he had to get out of wherever he was before he died. Adrian was violently tossed and whipped, ripping away his equilibrium. For a few precious seconds, Adrian felt ground under his feet. Trying to push off of the rare solid surface, he restrained a groan of frustration when the possibility was ripped away from him.

He estimated he had thirty seconds left to live. Maybe less.

The final few moments of his life began to slow to a crawl. Adrain was able to sense things he couldn't sense before. He was in something black that was suffocating him. He could see some sort of soft light coming from the left. Forcing himself to the left by wildly grabbing for any sort of hold didn't seem to work. Then he slowly felt something solid press against his right side. Was it ground? It didn't matter; it was his ticket out. He twisted himself in the liquid mass and kicked the solid surface as hard as he could.

The next thing he knew, he was lying on the grass, gasping for air. The ground was wet and cold, but Adrian didn't care. Whatever had just happened was over. Until he turned his head to the other side. Whatever that thing that had nearly killed him was, it was coming back. And it obviously wasn't finished with him yet. But Adrian couldn't move. He was too exhausted. He was out of breath, unable to move a single muscle. But he tried. Mustering all the strength he had left, Adrian was able to lift himself to his feet.

But by that time, the thing was right in front of her.

Alice wasn't sure what the big black thing in front of her was. But she knew she had to avoid it. Just as it lunged, she jumped to the side, skidding on the wet grass below her. She stood back up and began to wipe off the grass stains, before noticing that she was covered in a strange black substance. She stole a glance at the huge black blob quickly advancing on her and connected the dots.

"What the heck did you cover me with!?" she screamed at the blob. Unfortunately, it didn't seem to register her comment. It launched itself into the air again, in another attempt to absorb its prey. Alice, seeing this coming, quickly ran under it, feeling the ground tremor as it landed behind her. Not watching where she was going, she slipped on the slime-covered grass. Her upside-down vision provided her the sight of the blob revealing one big red eye, focused on her.

Toby saw a threat. He didn't know what it was, but the red eye tipped him off that it didn't mean to sit down and play nice. Toby, quickly surveying his surroundings, noticed a few things. One, he was covered in black stuff. Two, the ground was covered in black stuff. Three, that thing only has one eye, betraying poor depth perception. Four, that eye was the only real light source anywhere near here. Toby, thinking quickly, began smearing the black slime on the grass all over himself. After verifying a good cover, he ceased all movement. Keeping his eyes slitted open, he watched the beast carefully as it swept its vision across the field. The black grass around him began to sting, but he ignored the sensation, instead keeping his attention focused on the immediate threat. Toby silently prayed in his mind for his prediction of bad vision to be correct as the prickling feeling grew more intense. Now, against the black sky, Toby could no longer see the red eye. He could only perceive a slightly more black outline against the sky. He took this chance to move.

Not getting up from his lying position, he used his short arms to drag him across the field as silently as he could. He noted grudgingly that the creature didn't seem to have a problem with moving silently. As the black outline grew smaller, Toby gained the confidence to stand up in order to bolt.

The red eye spotted him again, and he froze.

David, thrust into the situation, only registered one thing: fear. What was in front of him was the embodiment of fear. His eyes wide, his mouth frozen, his limbs stone. David was rendered immobile by the haunting red light in front of him. The light disappeared. David took the chance, and he bolted. His mouth still frozen, he could not speak. David was on auto-pilot, running as fast as his body would allow him to separate him from..._that._

David heard nothing behind him. But he didn't look. He wouldn't look. He refused. He looked ahead of him as he ran, ignoring the burning sensation covering his body, ignoring the burning sensation in his lungs. Finally, something he recognized rose on the horizon. The tree.

The tree was safe. Right?

Before David realized what he was doing, he felt the strong texture of the bark pressing up against his body as he gripped the trunk of the tree for all he was worth. He would not let go. He would not let go. This tree was safe and he would not let go.

* * *

"Update, guys: we made it. I woke up this morning. That's really good. I had a terrible night, and honestly, I don't know how I got through it," Alice wrote.

"What do you mean, Alice? Could you be more specific, please?" Daphne asked innocently.

"There was...this big black thing. And it covered me in this slime stuff. It was super gross and it took me _forever_ to get it all off."

"Big black thing? I saw it, too. Well...I was _in _it when I woke up. I couldn't breathe. But I got out, which was good. I guess," Adrian added.

"How many of us saw this thing, anyways?" Alice asked. "Other than Adrian and I?"

"I did," Toby answered. "It was looking for me. I...well...I'm sorry, Alice. I covered myself in the slime-stuff to hide from the black thing. And I think it worked.

"I saw it too! It was REALLY REALLY REALLY SCARY. I ran away really fast and I hugged the tree," David offered.

"And again, David, you're the one to escape. You're...not totally useless," Adrian wrote.

"Uh...okay!" David wrote happily.

"What about you, Daphne? Did you see it?" Alice asked.

"Well...yes. I did. I woke up from a nightmare in the night, and I was hungry. I climbed up the tree, and...that thing started chasing me. I tried to escape, but it caught me," Daphne said simply.

"Oh," Toby wrote simply.

* * *

Toby frowned at what Daphne had written. Something bothered him about that, but he decided to let it go for now. It was morning, and Toby was _not _going to spend another night like this one.

Ever again.

* * *

**Okay. I finally got this one out. Goodness gracious, this one took longer than expected. Sorry for the wait!**


	7. Vi for Vendetta

**Okay, I'm going to try to get chapters out more often. Try ends in 'umph'!...Or 'nomial'. But we don't talk about that stuff much.**

* * *

_**Window to the Past**_

_**Chapter 7: Vi for Vendetta**_

"Hey, Chaos. Thanks for getting them out of that," I said, reviewing the chapter he wrote. "You did good."

"Thanks," he said, nodding. "Hey, can I write this one, too?"

I shook my head. "I kind of wanted to write this one. Besides, you can't write every chapter!"

He mumbled something inaudible, but I dismissed it.

* * *

Adrian woke up on the ground, with the grass pressing up against his cheek. He tried to push himself up, but his strength faltered, and he collapsed back onto the ground again.

_I need to eat._

He looked around for his journal, seeing it a few feet away from him. Someone must have fainted from fatigue. Last night had left all of them physically drained, and it didn't help that they hadn't eaten since they had woken up by that small lake two days ago. Adrian's eyes drooped, and he laid there on the grass for an indefinite amount of time. Eventually, though, he slowly got to his feet. He was feeling dizzy, and he had a headache, but he tried to shake it off. No one else was going to do this; he needed to find food.

Adrian flipped open the journal first, to check for any updates. There was none. He scoffed, although it made sense; you can't write about what happened when you're unconscious on the ground. He began scanning his surroundings, hoping for some sort of sign of progress. This time, he found something. Ahead of him was something that wasn't a meadow. Already, that was encouraging. He couldn't see any detail yet; his eyes were still blurry. But he could make out that the ground was a colour other than green. And to him, that was an improvement. He rubbed his eyes in an attempt to coax some clarity into his vision. The scene focused in front of him.

He saw a river. It wasn't big; only about six feet across. But it was flowing. And Adrian was pretty sure flowing water meant clean drinking water. At the very least, it was better than stagnant. And Adrian needed to drink.

The question was how.

Because of the...form he was in, kneeling wouldn't really do much, considering he didn't have knees. His face was too high up on his head, and if he tried to lie down, he might lose his balance.

"Screw it," he said frustratedly and began to jump into the river. Halfway through, he realized he was still holding the book. Thinking quickly, he tossed the book onto the riverside, where it wouldn't get wet. He landed in the water with a splash. The current was strong, but he braced himself against the current using the side of the river. Not knowing what else to do, he simply opened his mouth and let water rush in. This turned out not to be the best idea as his throat became bombarded with water, almost making him choke. Pulling himself onto the shore, he coughed, trying to clear his airway. After that was finished, he gave a dirty look to the river. He sat there for a while, thinking about the best course of action.

Toby woke up suddenly to the sound of rushing water. He saw a river beside him and noticed that he was dripping wet. He sighed, deducing what one of the others must have done.

_I'm still pretty thirsty,_ he realized. _Maybe if I..._

After going through the same eliminative process Adrian did, he too concluded he had to get into the water to drink. Toby, however, decided to take a different approach. He walked carefully down the side of the river, looking for a shallow part. Finding one about three minutes down, he slowly walked into the shallow water. The current was strong, but he had been prepared for it. He was up to the top of his feet in the water now, and he realized too late that it was cold. Gritting his teeth, Toby thought about his next course of action.

"There's a bit of a drop off there," he mumbled. "If I could just get over the-there..."

Shivering, he waded through the ice-cold water. Making it to the drop, he turned around and began to descend. He couldn't bend down and grab the rocky riverbed he had been standing on before, so he had to do the first part without any sort of brace against the current. Angling his feet so he'd have a better hold, he began to slowly make his way down. Now up to the bottom of his mouth in water, he lowered his mouth a bit and sipped from the surface of the water. It, like its surroundings, was shockingly cold, but after fifteen long, hard minutes, Toby was able to get a drink.

After drinking his fill, Toby climbed back up to the shallow part and got out of the river. Instantly, the wind chilled his body to a particularly unpleasant temperature. Trembling, he made his way back to where the first attempt must have taken place. When he got there, though, he saw something strange.

There was a black cat-like thing with a sack standing there. It was about as tall as he was, and had a very similar shape. And it seemed to be holding something.

"Hey!" David yelled angrily. "That's mine!"

The cat thing gave David one quick harried look, shoved the journal into his sack, and took off like a bullet. David, without a second thought, sped off after it.

David kept yelling angrily at the cat to 'come back here', but it didn't seem to listen. And it was _fast_. No matter how fast David tried to run, he just couldn't keep up. He watched helplessly as the black figure faded further and further into the horizon. Tears began to line his eyes as his only way to talk to his friends disappeared forever.

"He took something from you?"

David looked to his left, where the voice came from. A...being...was leaning against a large rock, staring at the horizon where the cat had disappeared.

"Y-yeah. It was r-really important to-to me..." David forced out between hiccups.

_She looks just like me!_ David realized. _Well...I'm orange. She's blue, but...we're both round, and we have these stub things for hands...is she the same...uh...thing...as me?_

She smiled calmly. "That's Tac. He's a bandit. Steals anything that catches his fancy. He's a fast runner, too...but it looks like you already figured that out."

"What...what does he do with the th-things he takes?" David asked, sniffling.

"Heck if I know. I don't even know _where_ he goes. He took something from me a while ago, and I've been waiting here for him to show his face again so I could try tracking him," she stated. She was no longer looking at David, but at the path Tac had taken.

"So...it's lost, then...?" David's voice trembled as he started to cry again.

"Not necessarily," she said quickly, pacifying David. "Actually, your chasing him helped me. C'mere."

David walked quickly over to where the girl was, but she held her stub up. "Stop there, or you'll step on it!"

He froze and backpedaled a few steps. He looked down. There were imprints of a sandal against the grass.

"You see it, right? The footprints. Usually, Tac walks so lightly that they don't show up. But you gave him a..." she looked up with a wry smile. "...a 'run for his money', if you'll excuse the pun. And that," she said sharply as she stood back up, "will help me see where he went."

Daphne blinked, utterly confused. Without thinking, she blurted "Where who went?"

The girl looked up at Alice with a questioning look on her face. "I...uh...Tac. The one who stole your thing. He..." she trailed off, and raising her stubs to the top of her head, continued. "Cat ears? Has a big green sack? Runs really fast?"

Daphne quickly realized this girl had been talking to someone else for the past few minutes. Feeling dried tears at the corners of her eyes, she deduced it was either David or Toby. Laughing uncomfortably, Daphne tried to brush off what probably seemed to the girl in front of her as memory loss. "Oh, yes, Tac! You'll have to forgive me, I have lapses in memory sometimes..."

This, to Daphne's chagrin, only made the girl narrow her eyes further. "You...changed suddenly..." She shook her head vigorously. "Never mind. I might just be paranoid. Anyways, as I was saying. If we follow those footprints, we should be able to find Tac. Only problem: I don't know how good of a fighter he is, and I'm not up to the task. Of course, I'm assuming, but it's better to be safe than sorry. Which is where you come in."

Daphne's eyes widened, realizing this girl was talking about her. "Exactly how can I help?"

"You can run fast. You almost kept pace with Tac, which is amazing. So since we both want to nail Tac, I propose you come with me to deliver some justice to his doorstep, and get our stuff back."

Daphne wasn't sure how to take this. This 'Tac' character must've taken something from her, and considering she only had one belonging, Daphne thought it was safe to assume it was the journal. So she'd have to go after the thief anyways. But having a companion seemed dangerous. What if she found out about the others? She's already met one of them. How would her opinion of Daphne change if she knew the truth? And if they traveled together, it would be safe to assume the girl would find out at some point.

"Hey, you okay? Your eyes are glazing over," the girl peered at Daphne curiously.

Daphne jumped, as if woken from a dream. "Oh! Ah...sure. I don't see myself getting my journal back alone, anyways. Thanks for your help."

"Thanks for yours! My name's Vi," she introduced herself, sticking her stub out.

Daphne took it, shaking it gently. When she noticed Vi looking at her expectantly, Daphne realized she was waiting for her name. "Er...Cece. My name's Cece."

Vi nodded, satisfied. "Alright, let's get going."

Daphne called out, suddenly remembering something. "Vi, you wouldn't happen to have some...food on you, would you?"

"Uh..." Vi stopped and turned around. "No, sorry. Why, when's the last time you ate?"

"I think it was two days ago," Daphne said quietly.

Vi's eyes widened again. "What is up with you? Changing your manner all of a sudden and not eating in two days!" She shook her head in disbelief. "Alright, we'll make food a second priority, then. I guess I'm a little peckish, too."

Daphne nodded in agreement. A million questions bounced around her head, but she couldn't find the context to voice them. So she kept quiet.

Vi gave one look at the footprints and stared off in the direction they led. "Alright, Cece. Let's go. We've got a Tac to catch."

* * *

**Before you ask, Ms. You-Know-Who-You-Are, yes. I named her after that character of yours. No, that does not mean I _modeled_ her after that character of yours.  
**

**And yes. I used the other name. I didn't think I would, but I did. So...yeah. As for the rest of you who have no idea what I'm talking about...here's a potato.**

**[WINDOW TO THE PAST READER GOT A 'POTATO! One of the most versatile vegetables available, you can mash it, bake it, throw it, analyze it, and so much more!]**


	8. Make Like a Tree

**This is Multikirby, broadcasting Chapter 8 of 'Window to the Past', directly to you! Yay!**

* * *

**_Window to the Past_**

**_Chapter 8: Make Like a Tree_**

Daphne gave Vi an uncomfortable smile. They had been walking alongside each other for a while, and Daphne had to admit; it was in a very stark contrast to anything else she could bring to mind.

"So, Cece, where're you from?" Vi asked, giving Daphne another glance, before focusing on the footprints they had been following.

Daphne, once again, was presented with a question she didn't know how to answer. She stared at the ground a while, trying to come up with something to say. "I'm...It's east of here."

Vi's head shot up from the footprints and looked at Daphne again. "Sorry, could you repeat that?" she asked.

"I'm from the east," Daphne restated.

"The east?" Vi's mouth curled downwards in slight surprise. "Strange," she mumbled, resting her eyes on the ground in front of her again.. "I could've sworn you're northern, being the way you are..."

"What does that mean?" Daphne asked indignantly. When she didn't get a response, she huffed in frustration.

"Oh, did you say something?" Vi asked again.

Daphne shook her head, taking deep breaths to calm herself down. She couldn't allow herself to get riled up over something that might not even be derogatory. "Do you know where we're going?"

Vi bit her lip before replying. "I know as well as you do. These footprints are all I have right now. Though the way they're going, it looks like we're headed to Niccola Forest."

Daphne frowned. This was another thing she didn't know. "Would you mind filling me in on what that could be?"

"If you're from the east, you should know about it..." Vi pursed her lips. "But I'll tell you anyways. Niccola Forest is exactly what it sounds like; a forest. It's east of Niccola River, where I'm assuming you got your thing stolen. You said it was a journal earlier, right?"

Daphne nodded. "What did Tac steal from you?"

Vi smiled sadly. "It's not really anything you'd find important. When I get it back, you're probably just going to turn to me and laugh about going to so much trouble to get it back. But it has sentimental value."

Alice stared at the person in front of her. She instinctively brought the journal to her face so she could catch up on-_  
_

_Where's the journal?_

The girl was no longer looking at Alice, instead she focused on the road ahead of them. Alice's mind raced to get her up to speed on what just happened.

_This girl looks just like me, except she's blue. We're probably the same species. We're walking somewhere. I heard 'sentimental value'. My journal's gone. Is she traveling with me? She didn't take my journal, did she? No, we're interacting too leisurely for that. Whoever came before wouldn't be this comfortable with-_

"There it is, Cece. Niccola Forest," the girl said suddenly.

_What's with her voice? It's kind of slurred...and what did she call me? Cece? Is that how I introduced myself? And what's Niccola Forest?_ _Forest?_

Alice, after a bit of deliberation, decided on the most inconspicuous question she could come up with to get some information. "What do you think we're going to find in here?"

The girl didn't respond.

"Hello?" Alice called, staring at her companion's back. "Hello? I'm talking to you!"

The girl stopped and turned around. "Sorry, did you say something?"

Alice blinked again. "Uh...What are we going to find in here?"

"I'm not quite sure. I didn't really think the plan out past this point if I'm going to be honest."

"Remind me what the plan was again?"

"It was to follow the footprints. And therein lies our problem," the girl finished.

Alice grinned sheepishly. "Pretend I'm an idiot."

The girl gave her another strange look, but seemed to dismiss whatever was bothering her. "The footprints end here. From this point forward, we're blind."

* * *

"You said you were hungry, right, Cece?" the girl asked. They had been searching the forest meticulously for any signs of disturbance.

"I think so," Alice said carefully. "Uh...this is going to sound awkward, but what's your name?"

"You forgot already?" she asked, laughing lightly. "It's Vi. But as I was saying. Some of these trees have fruit growing on them. I find that strange, since this isn't a rainforest or an orchard. But beggars can't be choosers. Keep your eyes open."

Alice nodded in conformation, and her eyes drifted to the canopy of trees above her. She hadn't really noticed at the entrance to the woods, but this place was stunning. The leaves were thick, but not too thick. They let light leak in from the outside world in the form of small beams. The sunlight that didn't make it to the ground level illuminated the thin leaves with a bright green hue. Alice marveled at how well the colours meshed with the browns of the trees, and the blue sky above them.

_Not many people appreciate stuff like this,_ she thought to herself. Suddenly, she felt something sticky on her foot. Looking down slowly, she saw her orange foot bathed in a dirty brown mess.

"Ick!" she yelped, trying futilely to clean her foot off by shaking it vigorously while hopping to and fro on the other foot. This approach had her stumble into the exact mud puddle that caused the problem. "Agh, gross!"

Alice attempted wiping the mud off of her body, but her limited reach only allowed for the cleansing of her feet. This left her backside woefully filthy. Gritting her teeth, she lied on her back on the grass, and began to drag herself across the ground in a last-ditch effort to remove the grime. This was much more effective, and though Alice could still feel a few spots she missed, she was overall pleased with the result.

"Sorry, Vi. I had something to take care of," Alice said, attempting to use the back of her foot to wipe off a bit more mud. When she didn't hear a reply, she looked up. "...Vi?"

Vi was nowhere to be found. Alice groaned in frustration. "Vi! Are you here?"

_She couldn't have gone far, _she reasoned. _That took two minutes, tops._

Alice looked again at the canopy. Maybe if she climbed up there, she could see better. Finding a low branch, she jumped and grabbed on before pulling herself up. The branch was thin, and bent under her weight, but Alice managed to stay balanced. Continuing her ascent, she felt leaves brush the top of her head as she climbed.

"Vi! Can you hear me?" she called. She began to scan the ground for any sign of her companion.

Which turned out to be a bad idea. It was a long way down. Alice's head spun from the sight of the ground far below her. Scrunching her eyes shut, she tried to convince herself she was back on the ground. It didn't work. Breathing faster and faster, Alice gripped the tree for all she was worth.

Toby felt hard bark digging into his hands and on reflex, he recoiled. Stumbling, he quickly realized he was on a very high branch on a very high tree.

"Why on earth am I up here...?" he mumbled, furrowing his brow. Looking up, he saw a couple of unidentifiable fruit. Remembering how hungry he was, he picked what looked like an apple. However, he didn't take a bite. Turning it around in his hands, he first made sure that it was, in fact, an apple. After that was confirmed, he took a bite. It was good. Really good.

It also happened to be the first thing he ever remembered eating since he woke up on that meadow two days ago.

As Toby's eyes drifted to the top of the canopy, he nearly gasped in delight as he realized the surrounding area was almost literally covered in apples.

"They're so...beautiful..." he whispered, his eyes beginning to water.

* * *

Toby sighed happily, leaning against the trunk of a tree. He lost count of how many apples he ate after fifteen, but one thing he did know was that he was full.

"Hey!" a voice from down on the forest floor called. "What happened to you? You just stopped moving, and I lost you for a while!"

Toby looked down and saw a blue mirror image of himself looking up at him. "Do I know you?"

The doppelganger rolled her eyes. "Not this again...Come down here, you aren't going to get your stuff back by hiding in the treetops!"

"My...stuff?" Toby asked, confused. "Sorry, but...I have no idea what you're talking about."

"There's...something wrong with you, Cece," she replied as Toby began climbing down the tree. "First, you're emotional. Then you're diplomatic. Then you're casual. And now you're apologetic. This might just be me, but every time that a switch happens, it's like you...forget everything I've told you."

Toby blinked in surprise. He'd seen her before? Or...she'd seen him, I guess. "Did you call me Cece?"

The girl groaned. "Yes! How could you forget your own name?!"

"My name's Toby, not Cece," Toby said quietly. "...but you can call me Cece if you really want to...I mean, I can't stop-"

Toby was interrupted by the girl walking straight up to him, gripping his head, and staring straight into his eyes. Shaking him lightly, she mumbled, "Anyone else in there?"

"Wait, none of them told you?" Toby was taken aback; if four of the others had been with this girl before, at least one of them had to have told her about all of them together.

The girl stepped back carefully. "Apparently, no. What am I missing?"

Toby twirled his foot in the grass uncomfortably. "This is actually...my first time telling anyone, so it might be a little clunky..."

"That's fine," she dismissed.

"And it might be a little hard to believe...and I'm sorry if I seem insane...but..." Toby trailed off, reluctant to say anything.

The girl stared at him intently.

He looked down at the ground, hiding his face. "There're five people sharing my body, and we kind of switch control at random, and we don't know what anyone else is doing."

No response. _Shoot,_ he thought, wincing. _I blew it. She thinks I'm insane._

He looked up reluctantly to face her. "I-I'm sorry, I'll just go-"

"Wait, you didn't say anything yet," she interrupted.

Toby turned back around to face her. "Y-yes, I did. I mean, I was a little quiet, but..."

The girl nodded in sudden recognition and began to smile awkwardly. "Sorry, I probably should've mentioned this earlier. If you want me to listen to you, I have to be able to see your mouth."

"That's a little weird...Oh, was that bad? Sorry." Toby asked.

The girl shook her head tiredly. "No, no, it is weird. I read lips to 'hear' what you're saying. I'm deaf."

* * *

"Multikirby," Chaos said crossly. "I can't help thinking that you're just throwing mental disabilities everywhere with wild abandon."

I scoffed. "Excuse me! Deafness is _not_ a mental disability!"

"You know what I mean," Chaos retorted, rolling his eyes. "I'm just saying that out of all the characters you've introduced, four have some sort of-"

I stood up from the laptop on the table and ruffled Chaos' ginger hair through his protests. It was a little hard since he was taller than me, but I managed. "Relax. I'll be careful. And besides, this is my story, remember?"

Chaos grumbled something but didn't push the subject.

* * *

"Really?" Toby gasped. "Oh, I'm so sorry! What happened?"

The girl's smile widened a bit. "You say sorry quite a bit, Toby. But I'm not telling you anything until you tell me why you're...not Cece, I guess."

Toby gave an apologetic grimace but nodded. "It's kind of hard to explain, but there're at least five people in this body, including me. We sort of switch out and take control one at a time, and when one of us switches, we don't know what the other one was doing. That's what this journal is-"

Toby stopped and stared at his empty stub. "M-my journal! Did I leave it up there?!" he yelped as his eyes shot up to the canopy.

The girl looked at Toby in a very nonplussed manner. "You aren't joking, are you?" She whistled lowly. "Toby. Your journal was stolen by a thief named Tac. You ran after him really quickly, but you ended up losing him. You and I talked for a bit, and you looked like you were going to cry a few times. And then suddenly you turned into a diplomat or something. You introduced yourself as Cece, and we decided that we were going to team up to find Tac and get our stuff back. My name's Vi, by the way."

"Vi," he repeated. "Vi..."

Suddenly his face went as red as the apples he had been eating earlier.

"Okay," he whispered.

"I've told you about me, and about us. I still don't know that much about you. You said you have five people bouncing around."

Toby nodded meekly. "Yeah. There's me, Adrian, Alice, David, and Daphne."

"That's weird..." Vi said. "Though I think I've heard about something like this before."

"Really?" Toby exclaimed, jumping up a bit. "What is it?"

"Did you change again?" Vi asked suspiciously.

Toby blushed again, breaking eye contact. He shook his head. "N-no, I just got excited. Sorry."

"It's alright. But...out of the five of you, which one's the main personality?"

"...What do you mean?" Toby asked slowly. The question didn't make sense to him.

_Which one of us is the main personality? What kind of question is that?_

"Well, you have Multiple Personality Disorder. Your personality split and some other personalities came to be. But the one you had before's still there. Which one is it?" Vi asked.

"You're..." Toby shook his head in denial as the weight of what Vi was saying began to sink in. "You're saying I'm fake...?"

Vi's eyes widened even more. "Wait...you don't know if you're the main one or not? What, did you get amnesia too?"

Toby, blocking out Vi's words, sat down on the grass, his eyes staring off into nothingness. "I'm fake...? I'm not real...?"

Suddenly the world felt very cold. Toby began to shiver. Vi was saying something again, but he couldn't hear it. Fake people can't hear anything. Right? Something hard crashed against Toby's face, throwing him to the side.

"Listen to me!" Vi yelled, enraged.

Toby's eyes, now devoid of any emotion except doubt, stared blankly at Vi fuming in front of him. He didn't say anything.

"I'm not saying you're fake!" she shouted indignantly.

"...Okay," Toby whispered.

Vi sighed as she ran out of steam. "What I'm saying is...wait. Where are you from, Toby?"

"I don't know. I woke up two days ago on a meadow alone."

"Oh, you poor thing..." Vi breathed.

Toby shook his head lightly, his face heating up at Vi's words. "N-no, I'm fine. I'm alive, right?"

"No, it's not that," Vi said, shaking her head. "You don't know who the main personality is, you don't know where you're from...how much _do_ you remember past two days ago?"

"I, uh...I have a father. That's it, I guess."

"You're one messed up kid. Do...do you even know...bah, of course, you do."

"Know what?" Toby asked desperately. "What do I know?"

"Well..." Vi trailed off. "It'd be kind of stupid if you didn't. But...you know what species, you are, right? I mean, you said you didn't remember anything past having a father, and I just thought for a bit that-"

"No, I don't."

"Oh," Vi said quietly. There was a new tone of pity in her voice.

"Do _you_ know what I am?" asked Toby.

Vi nodded. "Y-yeah. You're what's called a puffball, I think.. Apparently, the first one of the species was called Kirby or something. But...yeah. I don't really know how to describe it to you other than that."

"Who's this first one?"

"Eh," Vi scoffed. "I don't think he exists, honestly. I mean, it was a long time ago, and he had these fantastical powers. For example, the ability to absorb the essence of people he _ate_ and gain powers from them."

Toby made a face.

"Exactly. Oh, hey, before I forget," Vi said suddenly, "did you see anything suspicious when you were up there in the trees? Broken branches, things like that?"

Toby shook his head. "No, nothing more than those...delicious apples..."

"Wait, you ate them!?" Vi gaped.

"...Why?" Toby asked carefully, fear creeping into his voice. "Are they poisonous?"

"No."

"Venomous?"

"Apples can't be venomous."

"Will I die if I eat one!?"

"That would mean it was poisonous."

"So it IS poisonous!?"

"No!" Vi yelled in a mixture of annoyance and amusement.

"Then..." Toby sighed, exasperated. "Then what's wrong with them?"

Vi smirked. "They induce temporary insomnia."

"Insomnia? What...does that mean what I think it means?" Toby said, dreading the answer.

"If you think it means you can't sleep," Vi said, nodding, "then yes."

Toby groaned. "Ohhhh, nooo..."

"No point worrying about that right now. Not for _me, _anyways, because it's not my problem," Vi finished with a chipper tone, earning what looked like a sad attempt at a dirty look from Toby.

"Let's just go find Tac," he murmured, trying to hide the blush without turning away.

* * *

"You know, I think you're the only one I haven't familiarized myself with," Vi remarked.

Adrian gave her a glare. "What do you mean by 'familiarized'? I'm no exhibit."

"Well, you're definitely different from Toby, that's for sure," Vi said, seemingly ignoring Adrian's comment.

They walked in silence for a while, when Adrian spoke. "How far are we from this 'Tac' thief?"

Vi walked on, paying Adrian no regard.

"Hey, I'm talking to you!" he said sharply.

Still no response.

"Fine. Just ignore me. See if I care."

Suddenly, Vi stopped. Crouching down on the ground, she examined the grass closely. "Hmm...I think this is his...but this is the only one."

Adrian was about to raise a question, but stopped when Vi answered it for him. "We're really lucky, Adrian. Tac had been traveling through the treetops since he got into the Niccola Forest, so he didn't leave any prints. But this here," she pointed at the ground in front of her, "is the footprint where he touched down. This could mean a couple things, but I think the most probable solution is that his hideout's nearby."

"I hope so," Adrian said lowly. "I'm sick of this forest."

"You've only been in it for the past ten minutes," Vi pointed out. "I've been in it all day. Don't eat that."

Adrian dropped a fallen apple he had been holding. "What's wrong with an apple?"

Vi's back was turned as she examined the trees for some sort of a hidden switch.

"Hey! Stop ignoring me!" Adrian yelled.

Vi turned around suddenly, as if realizing something. "Were you saying something?"

Adrian's shoulders heaved in rage. "No...everything's just..._peachy._"

"Oh, okay. But if you do say something, make sure I'm looking at you when you say it," Vi advised. "I'm deaf. I need to read your lips to understand you."

A figurative anvil came crashing down upon Adrian's head. She was deaf. Great.

"Oh, hey! I think I found it!" Vi exclaimed, pulling a small handle-like vein of the tree in front of her. To her right, the grass slid aside to reveal a hole with a ladder.

"Let's go," Adrian said as he started climbing down.

Vi stopped him. "Hold on! We should have a plan before we get down there. We don't know what's waiting for us."

"So we make up a plan based on us knowing nothing?" Adrian said skeptically.

Vi gave him a small grin. "I was thinking more along the lines of...'Tac'tics."

"That was terrible."

"I thought it was pretty good."

* * *

"You just ruined all of the suspense," Chaos stated.

"And you just ruined a good end to the chapter," I retorted. "Now we have to do this awkwardly."

"Awkwardly?" Chaos asked.

"Awkwardly," I confirmed.

We both stood there awkwardly until the text stopped recording what we were doing.

"Just end the chapter already!" I yelled.

More awkward standing.

"Thanks, Chaos," I mumbled.

"You're the one who keeps saying stuff!"

* * *

**I think that's awkward enough. Don't you?**


	9. Tac Challenge

**Hi, me again. So...I've been getting complaints that some of you don't like my shirt. And...I don't know how to take that. On one hand, you have no idea what my shirt looks like, and so your opinion is invalid. On the other hand, if you _do_ know what my shirt looks like, I'm kind of freaked out because that means you're watching me right now. HOW MANY FINGERS AM I HOLDING UP?**

**On another note, the chapter name is a good song. Sounds like Vaudeville or something.**

* * *

_**Window to the Past**_

_**Chapter 9: Tac Challenge**_

Adrian stared into the hole, uncertainty creeping into his head. "We still don't have a plan about this."

"Well, you need facts to form a plan. What do we know about what's down there?" Vi asked him simply.

"I don't know, I've never seen him!" Adrian answered tiredly.

Vi rolled her eyes. "Well, I know a couple of things. First off, he's fast. Second, he's dressed in black. Third, this is probably his hideout."

"Probably?"

"How do we know for sure?"

"By going in!" David cheered.

Vi brought her head back in surprise. "Did you switch?"

"I think so! What just happened?" David asked, looking Vi in the eye.

"We're going to get back your journal from Tac," Vi explained. "My name's Vi, by the way."

"We're getting the book back?" David frowned a bit. "Man..."

Vi peered at the seemingly new Kirby in front of her in curiosity. "Don't you want it back?"

"...Sort of," David said in an indecisive tone. "I mean, it's for camoonication, but Alice wrote 'Dear Diary' on the first page. I want one that doesn't say 'diary' because diaries are for girls."

"You almost seem...smaller than the other ones," Vi murmured in fascination. "That's so weird."

"Well, I think I'm the youngest one," David said simply. "But I'm good! I got out of two near-death egg spears!"

"Experiences," Vi corrected quietly.

David nodded. "Yeah, those. The others write in really big words, and I don't really know what some of them mean."

Vi walked over to the hole. "You think we're ready?"

"Yeah!" David cheered again. "Let's go!"

"Without a plan?"

"Pssh! Who needs a plan?"

Vi grimaced when she thought about how one of the others would have reacted to that statement. "I can see how this could become a problem..."

David, paying Vi no more mind, jumped down the hole and began sliding down the ladder. Touching the ground below, David turned around and gasped.

Piles of assorted objects and knickknacks were stacked high in the underground cavern. The mounds themselves were organized in what seemed like straight lines, but their contents' organization system seemed haphazard by comparison. Each pile contained a range of things, from weapons to empty engagement ring boxes to cassette tape recorders to full suits of armor.

David decided this place probably belonged to Tac.

"Don't say a word," he heard Vi's voice say beside him. "He might be here."

David nodded to show he agreed. He then proceeded to run wildly from pile to pile, digging through them to find his journal.

"David!" Vi yelled harshly. "Be quiet! Tac could be here!"

"Why are you being so loud then?" David retorted.

Vi's eyes widened, and she covered her mouth as her eyes drifted over David's head to the pile behind him.

"Sorry," she whispered through her stubs. David gave a curt nod, then turned around to continue perusing the pile behind him. Suddenly, he stopped as something hit him on the head.

"Ah! What gives?" he yelled indignantly, looking up.

Tac was there, perched atop the mountain of junk.

"Vi..." David asked quietly, a strange mixture of fear and rage in his tone. "What do I do?"

No response.

David, without thinking, turned back to face Vi. The last thing he saw was Vi rushing towards him before something hard hit him on the back of the head.

* * *

You were waiting for something. The ground was cold and rough, but you waited. Whatever you were waiting for was worth it.

It was getting dark. Were they going to come? Here they came.

You were wet. You couldn't breathe. Something happened. Something went wrong. Because you were wet. You couldn't breathe. You were drowning. Struggling to break the surface of the water, you shot your arms out to propel yourself forward. They crumpled in pain as they slammed against rocks. Helpless, you continued to be thrown back and forth in the water. Your lungs cried for air, air that you couldn't give them. Your eyes closed as the water filled your lungs.

Something was choking you.

* * *

Tristan's eyes shot open in shock.

_What was that?! Where am I?_

He looked down.

_What am I?_

As his heavy breathing slowed, his eyes began to get a grip on his surroundings. Which, in turn, got his breathing right back up again.

He was tied up in a dark cave. There were two short round figures arguing in front of him. One of them was tied up. He was surrounded by piles of junk. Tristan had no idea what this cave was illuminated with, but he knew his life was in danger here.

Scrunching up his eyes, Tristan began to think. Should he speak? Who were these people? Why was one of them tied up? Was he tied up for the same reason they were? Who is the one who tied him up? Was it that round thing that _wasn't _tied up?

His eyes shot open. None of that mattered. He was tied up. He had to get untied and get out. Who the other two were didn't matter. Twisting himself so he could see behind him, Tristan surveyed the tower of garbage behind him. His eyes locked onto something sharp sticking out of the pile. It glinted in the soft light, as if calling to him. He backed up and winced as he felt the sharp point against his back. Moving discreetly so the pair in front of him wouldn't notice his motion, he started moving back and forth on the blade, sawing the rope. Or, he hoped it was sawing the rope. He wasn't able to tell.

As Tristan performed this mindless task, his mind locked onto the two shadowy figures in front of him. They seemed to be having a one-sided conversation.

"...Led me go!" the voice yelled, her words slurred and rounded off, "or I'm gonna mack you ergret it! Gi vie me back my stuffuff! An whatevah you took from Dahvid, too! Whie d'you even nee-eed a jorunal an a cassat-ape recoder for?!"

_snap_

Tristan was alerted to the broken rope by two senses. He felt the rope's tight grip loosen around his body, and he heard a snap.

Turns out the other two people there heard it too.

"David! You're awake!" the girl exclaimed. "We need to get out of here!"

Tristan didn't move. What did she call him? David? Who was David? She mentioned a 'David' in her monologue...did she mean him?

She must have noticed the conflict on his face. "You...are David right now, aren't you? Or...Daphne? Alice? Toby? Adrian?"

"What...what are you talking about? Who are you?" Tristan whispered.

"Vi," she said. "Though...I thought I introduced myself to all of you...what's your name?"

Tristan shook his head. Something was off about this. She knew him. He didn't know her. That cat thing was gone.

He bolted.

Running frantically, Tristan held back the urge to cry as the fear he was feeling materialized as a blockage in his throat.

"Wait, I need help!" the girl yelled behind him.

Yeah, right. This was probably a trick. She was probably with that cat thing. Feeling a tingle on the back of his head, he jumped to the right, narrowly avoiding a club that otherwise would have knocked him out. Turning around to face his adversary, his eyes flitted from shadow to shadow, trying to find the cat thing.

Something moved. His eyes locked onto the displaced shadow. It was easy to see him now, and therefore easy to avoid him.

The cat jumped towards him with blinding speed. Thinking quickly, he pressed himself down on the ground. He watched in smug satisfaction as the cat soared above him before crashing into the pile behind him. Now Tristan was faced with a dilemma. Fight or flight? Should he try to take the cat down, or-

Tristan bolted.

Not much of a dilemma, if you ask me.

Taking the chance given to him, he zigzagged between the piles of junk, looking desperately for an exit.

"Hey!" the girl yelled. "Could you at least untie me before you find the exit!?"

Tristan ignored her. His eyes scanning the room, his search became more and more frantic as his efforts turned up fruitless. And this is where Tristan's eyes betrayed him. Used to the darkness, Tristan's vision was blinded anywhere he looked other than the dark shadows cast by the mountainous heaps of junk.

Tristan's breathing quickened further as he heard the telltale signs of the cat planning another assault. He began to feel lightheaded as the lack of oxygen started to get to him. Stumbling, Daphne fell to the ground, shocked.

"Wh...where am I? Vi? Are you here?"

No response. "Vi! Now's not the time for games!"

"Stop ignoring me! Get me out of these ropes or you'll never hear the end of it!"

Daphne spun around to find the sight of Vi glaring angrily at her, restricted by a coil of ropes surrounding her body.

"Vi! What are you doing tied up?"

"Which one are you?" Vi asked, ignoring Daphne's question.

"What kind of question is that?" Daphne retorted.

Vi nodded. "Daphne, then. Quick, untie me before - WATCH OUT!"

Daphne's eyes shot to where Vi was looking, and saw a dark figure rushing towards her. She began to scream, but got cut off as the cat pinned her to the ground. Petrified with fear, Daphne stared into Tac's slitted eyes, waiting for the inevitable hack-n'-slash she was in for.

"What are you doing?! Move!" Vi yelled.

But Daphne couldn't. She could only tremble in fear, scrunching her eyes shut. Something smashed into her side, and Daphne was launched into the air before suddenly being stopped by a rough surface. She rolled to the ground, letting herself go limp like a ragdoll.

"Daphne! No!" she heard Vi yell in anguish.

She felt bad about tricking Vi, but at least that meant her performance was believable. She kept her eyes open a sliver, and watched Tac approach her slowly, probably coming to finish her off. Raising his hand above Daphne, Tac prepared to strike.

_Now or never..._

Daphne bolted.

Tac made a strange strangled sound as Daphne ran past him, headed straight for Vi. She seized the top of the rope and yanked them down. Vi yelped a bit, but she was free.

"Thank you," Vi said, exasperated.

"I suppose you know about the other four, since you called me Daphne-"

"Five, I think, actually," Vi corrected.

"Sorry?"

Vi shook her head. "Formalities later. Let's take care of this...cat burglar."

"Really, Vi?"

"Why does nobody appreciate them?" Vi sighed.

Nonetheless, Vi jumped forward, ready to combat Tac. She looked back at Daphne. "Are you...going to help?"

Daphne shook her head quickly. "I'm no fighter."

Vi bit her lip but said nothing. Tac was staggering to his feet, boring holes into Vi with his drill-like stare. Vi stood her ground.

"I'll give you one last chance. Give back our stuff, and I'll-"

Tac leaped towards her with blinding speed. Prepared for something like this, Vi stepped to the side, forcing Tac to land behind her. It seemed Tac anticipated this move as well as he pushed off of the nearest mound of objects, and sprung again. Vi hadn't expected Tac to recover from a miss so quickly, and therefore could not act fast enough to avoid impact. Daphne winced as she heard Vi give a cry of pain. Tac hit his target.

Unable to get close, Daphne watched helplessly as Tac mercilessly pummeled Vi the way a butcher would tenderize a chunk of meat. Vi's outbursts began to quiet as her body started shutting down. Daphne knew she had to act. Looking around, she tried to think about what she could do. Nothing came to mind. She couldn't block out the constant, rhythmic _thwack_ of Tac's fist plowing through Vi's defenses. Turning every which way for some sort of solution, Daphne finally settled on something she could see in a nearby mound.

Daphne picked up a spear.

Adrian threw it.

Vi gasped for air as Tac recoiled from the grazing cut Adrian had delivered to his back. Turning to face him, Tac registered the orange puffball as the new priority.

Adrian's eyes narrowed into slits as he and Tac stood off, waiting for the other to make a move. The only noise filling the dark underground cavern was Vi's weak breathing.

Tac jumped high into the air. The showdown had begun. Adrian, thinking quickly, ran forward and retrieved the spear he had thrown. Turning around, he scanned the mountain summits for the attacker.

But something was wrong. Everything was dark. Adrian couldn't see. Tac was using that to his advantage.

"You're no better than a common house cat," Adrian called into the darkness. "Hiding behind the curtains, or under tables, because it's too scared to fight. Hit once, and hide. I'm almost ashamed to fight you-"

An annoyed growl came from his left side. Smirking, he thrust the butt of his spear in that direction, catching Tac on the end of it. He whipped the spear towards the ground, bringing Tac down with it.

_clunk._

Adrian frowned. He had expected a 'thud' or a 'thwack'. Somehow Tac had escaped. Which meant-

_THWACK!_

Adrian was sent reeling from the blow to the back of his head, the spear ringing melodically as it clattered across the stone floor. Dizzy from the impact, he staggered to his feet, only to be assaulted again. His ears ringing, Adrian was sent soaring through the air, flailing as he attempted to grab onto something to alter his trajectory. Unfortunately, his stubs proved to be too short to do much good. He tumbled head over heels on the cold cave floor, crashing into the base of another collection of assorted trash.

Resting his back on the ground, Adrian tried to focus his vision behind him, to avoid another ambush. He was still seeing double, and the fact that he was upside down didn't help.

"S-stupid...cat..." he growled.

Adrian's head rested on its side. Struggling to keep his eyes open, he tried to think of a way to get out of this.

_What are these?_ he stared lazily at the assorted objects in front of him. _A screwdriver__...a broken microphone...a baseball...baseball._

Knowing he didn't have much time, Adrian rolled onto his stomach. He pushed himself up to a standing position, bracing himself on the pile behind him. Bending down carefully, he picked up the baseball.

And he waited.

He heard the clattering of objects rolling down like pebbles on a cliffside. Something was displacing them.

_One shot..._he thought. Adrian tried desperately to banish the second image his eyes were feeding his brain. His chance was coming, and he couldn't afford to foul up now.

Something landed in front of him. He couldn't see in the dark. But he heard ringing. What was that? He had heard that before.

_...ringing melodically as it clattered across the floor..._

_...His ears ringing, Adrian was sent soaring through the air..._

"It's the bag," he whispered. "It's Tac's bag."

_Ring, ring, ring..._

There.

Adrian threw the baseball with all the force of an angry, disoriented puffball hurling a small rounded object at the source of his rage.

Which happened to be a lot of force.

_CRACK._

Adrian smiled. That's what he wanted to hear.

"Strike three," he said under his breath as he stumbled past Tac's unconscious body. "You're out."

"Th-that doesn't even...even work!" Vi's weak voice shouted between coughs. "You threw the...the ball once!"

"I thought it was good," Adrian shrugged, giving the battered blue puffball a superior smirk.

Vi glared at him, annoyed. "I don't think I like Adrian that much."

"You're mistaking me for someone who cares."

"It's not that hard; you all look alike."

"Shut up."

* * *

I read over the scene, nodding my head. "That was really well done, Chaos. Seriously, I don't know how you do it."

Chaos's smile widened. "Oh, it's nothing major, I just-"

"It's nothing major?" I said, not turning to look at him. "Oh, never mind, then."

Chaos made some sort of disbelieving exclamation. I stood up, crossing my arms.

"I'm teasing you!" I said, raising my arms. "Douglas Adams!"

"I..." Chaos pulled his cap over his eyes. "I can't believe I fell for that."

I sat back down at the laptop. "You write good combat. I'm jealous. I especially like the puns."

"Mmm," Chaos said with a disinterested tone. "I suppose that has no connection to the fact that you insisted I use puns during the fight?"

"I didn't insist. I _implored._"

"That's the same thing," Chaos said flatly.

I nodded my head. "Yeah, but 'implored' sounds better."

"I'm done arguing with you about this."

* * *

"So where do you think he put our stuff?"

Vi smirked, still panting a bit from the encounter with Tac. "Are you Toby?"

Toby's eyes widened and he stared at the ground.

"Yep. You're Toby. I'd say that they might still be in his sack," Vi said, pointing at Tac's body.

"Whoa!" Toby exclaimed, poring over the unconscious Tac, observing the blue bruise in the center of his face.

"Adrian threw a baseball. Knocked him out of the park."

"...What?"

"Seriously?! Everyone but me!"

Toby shrugged sheepishly, then turned to Tac's green bag. Opening the mouth, he began digging through it. He found his journal and pen near the top of it.

"Ah-HA!" he exclaimed happily. Sitting down, he immediately began to write.

Vi watched him for a few moments, then stepped forward and began to root through the bag herself. Then she gasped.

"Ohh...it's still here!" she sighed in relief as she hugged a cassette recorder. Suddenly, she froze. "He better not have-"

Quickly, she pivoted to face Toby, who looked up from the journal. "I'm going to play this for you and you are going to tell me exactly what it says. If that bugger recorded something over it, he's going to die a fiery death."

She pushed rewind, waited thirty seconds, then pushed play.

"Mmm...muhh...Fey!"

Toby stared at the tape curiously. The voice was high, like that of a baby. Vi nodded hurriedly at Toby to repeat the tape. He did so.

"It's fine...It's fine," she breathed, relaxing.

"What...what was that?"

Vi smiled sadly. "That was my little brother. I don't know how it got on tape, or how I got it, but that's the only time he's ever said my name."

Toby would have continued, but something bugged him. "That was your name?"

Vi nodded slowly, as if Toby was a child. "Yes, Toby. My name is Vi."

"But...that didn't say Vi," Toby pointed out. "It said Fey."

"That's what I said. Vi," she repeated, beginning to get tired.

"You're saying Vi, like the letter. The cassette's saying Fey, as in F-E-Y."

"Wait, I'm not saying 'Vi'?"

Toby smiled awkwardly. "You said 'Vi' again."

Fey made a face. "Shoot. Okay, I'm going to try this again. V...F...Fi."

"You said the 'F', but the 'ay' sound's not there."

"Agh!" Fey groaned. "Okay, again."

As Toby coached Fey on how to say her name, his mind began to wander. What had she told him earlier that day? That...only one of them was real? What did she mean?

"Fey," she said finally.

Casting his thoughts aside, Toby smiled widely and nodded. "That's it!"

"Yes!" Fey cheered.

"So..." Toby said awkwardly after a bit of silence. "What about your brother? You said he only ever said your name once."

Fey nodded. "Yeah. He only ever said it once."

"Did he..." Toby trailed off. "You know..."

"Die?" Fey guessed. "No. As far as I can tell, he's still alive. But I haven't seen him in a really long time. I kind of miss him."

Toby nodded in understanding. There was another silence, before Fey spoke up again.

"Hey, uh...back when I was still tied up..." Fey said uncomfortably. "I saw a personality of you I didn't recognize. You only know the five of you, right?"

"Yeah. Daphne, Adrian, David, Alice, and me."

"I think there might be a sixth one."

Toby's mouth dropped open. "Really? What makes you think that?"

"When I was tied up...you were running around, running from Tac. I was yelling at you to help me, but...you didn't even look at me. Like I was a stranger," Fey said slowly, enunciating every word. "It was...scary."

"Oh," Toby said quietly. He'd never really thought about the possibility of having a bad person in him. It was a scary thought.

"Just...keep a lookout," Fey said, standing up. "Alright, I'm off. I'll be seeing you, Toby!"

"Wait!" Toby called out. "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to try to find my way back home. So this is goodbye, I guess."

Toby's heart felt like it was ripped out of his chest. She's leaving? Can't he go with her? Why can't he go with her?

Fey waved, smiling sadly. "You're an interesting person. I hope I get the chance to see you again."

And she began walking away.

Toby wanted to call out to her. He wanted to tell her to stop. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. For some reason, he couldn't find the words. And so he watched as Fey walked forwards, blending into the shadows.

"The exit's over this way," her voice called far ahead of him. "Don't get lost on your way out!"

Toby felt like crying. There she went. And he was alone again.

_Ring, ring, ring._

He jumped, the sudden electronic tone startling him. He looked at the green bag beside him. A small light glowed through the fabric. Opening the mouth, and digging in, Adrian found a cell phone. He flipped it open, and by instinct pressed the green button.

"Are you okay?"

Adrain froze with the phone in his grip. It was his father.

"You seem a little down. You know you can talk to me, right? I'm always here for you. Well...not _always_, of course, but you can talk to me. Nothing? Alright. I'll be waiting if you change your mind."

_click_

Adrian's mind flooded with outlines of memories. Memories of talking, of sadness, of anger, of water.

_Water?_

Instantly Adrian's throat seized up; he couldn't breathe.

_Water..._

Adrian fell onto the stone floor of the cave, gasping for breath.

_Water...water..._

* * *

**That part with Fey talking all slurred was based on the fact that (for me, anyways) you think less about what you're saying when you're angry. She's not drunk or anything.**

**Also, yes. I actually got a review (that I deleted for spam) that said he hated my story because he didn't like my shirt. So...I don't know. Maybe I should move to Kansas.**


	10. You May Not Rest Now

**So someone asked, and since I reasoned that more of you are asking the question, too, I'll clear this up. Cece's body is not a boy or a girl (Cece being what I'm calling the main character because I don't want to type out six names every time). My theory (unfounded but it makes sense to me) is that puffballs' genders are decided by identification. So what that means is that if you're a puffball and you think you're a girl, you're a girl. So Cece literally switches between being a boy and a girl every time the personalities switch. The More You Know.**

* * *

_**Window to the Past**_

_**Chapter 10: You May Not Rest Now**_

"We got the journal back! Yay!" Toby celebrated. "It feels good to write in this thing again. So we should probably update everything so we can piece together what happened. So all I know is I woke up in the treetops, ate apples, then Vi called to me. I climbed down, and she ended up telling me that they induce insomnia. So...sorry about that. Anyways, we found Tac, I guess. Vi's taking back what was stolen from her. It looks like a cassette tape recorder-"

"We got another call from Dad," Adrian wrote slowly. "He said we could talk to him again. And...after he hung up, I felt like I was choking on water. I couldn't breathe. I don't know what happened. But...I don't know about you guys, but I don't want to go near water anytime soon."

"I keep having these bad dreams," David wrote. "Theyre scary. and I always feel like I can't breath in them."

"I know what you're talking about, actually," Alice responded. "Does anyone else?"

"The nightmares?" Adrian guessed. "Yeah. I'm pretty sure we all have them. What about the phone call? Anyone scared pantsless by water now?"

"I wouldn't say I'm 'scared pantsless', but I definitely have a dislike for water now," Daphne answered.

"Uh, guys...Fey's gone," Toby wrote. "She left. And now we're alone again. She said something creepy, though. When we were fighting Tac, she said she saw someone in our body she didn't recognize. She said whoever it was completely ignored her, as if she was a stranger or something. Who is it? Do...did any of you ignore her?"

"I don't remember ignoring Vi..." Alice answered. "All of us were more or less friendly with her, right?"

"More or less," Adrian wrote.

"So there's someone else here, too," Daphne concluded.

"Are...are you talking to each other?"

"Whoever that was, you've gotta sign what you wrote or we don't know who you are," Alice reminded.

"I don't want to. I don't want you knowing my name."

"This is our enigma," Adrian guessed. "Dude, we are literally you. There's no real point in concealing anything. You're just being stupid."

"Adrian," Daphne chided. "If you want him to cooperate, calling him stupid isn't the way to go about it. Why don't you try being nice?"

"Why don't you try taking that stick out of your-"

"NOT IN FRONT OF DAVID," Alice scrawled, scribbling out the last part of Adrian's message.

"What what what what what was he gonna say? was it another big word?" David asked.

"Okay, Daphne, _for you._ Because I like you so much," Adrian wrote, pressing the pen into the page so hard it nearly ripped. "Person we don't know, could you _please_ write your name at the end of your sentences?"

"You're all insane," he answered. He had written his name but scribbled it out.

"They are," Toby said. "But they're okay once you get to know them. Sort of."

"I'm going to choose to ignore that comment," Alice wrote, drawing an arrow to the 'Sort of' in Toby's message.

"We've all shared our names with you," Daphne reasoned. "The least you could do is tell us who you are."

"He's US, you idiot!" Adrian wrote.

"I didn't mean it that way, of course," Daphne answered. "Please take the intended meaning of the sender into account before responding."

"This has been a Public Service Announcement by your local SELF-RIGHTEOUS-" Adrian retorted.

"NOT IN FRONT OF DAVID," Alice wrote again, over the last part of Adrian's message.  


"Give me a break! I keep forgetting, okay?" Adrian wrote.

"I feel like we aren't really giving the guy a very good first impression," Toby wrote in a small font.

"It's...my name is Tristan."

"Took you long enough!" Adrian wrote in large letters.

"That's Adrian; we ignore him," Alice responded.

"Took you long enough!" David repeated.

"See what you did?!" Alice yelled.

* * *

Toby stared down at the diary. _Poor Tristan,_ he thought to himself. _He probably thinks we're all going to be the death of him._

Then he frowned. What Fey had said bothered him. Out of the six people in this body, only one of them was real. Everyone else was just the product of their imagination. He looked through the pages, reading the words and messages of his friends and acquaintances. To think that only one of them truly existed was a scary thought. He decided not to tell them; there were enough rifts as is. Closing the diary, he picked it up and began to walk out of the cavern.

Suddenly he remembered something. Turning around, he looked at Tac's bag, then at the diary in his hands. A short while later, Toby was digging through the nearby mounds of junk, looking for anything that could be useful. He settled on a canteen, what looked like a pair of chocolate bars, and a small pillow. Stuffing them along with the diary in the bag he had emptied earlier, Toby picked it up and began walking towards where Fey had told him the exit was. A natural light was shining down through the hole in the ceiling, betraying the metallic sheen of the ladder. Gripping the bag in his teeth, he climbed up the ladder, his eyes staring at the dying light above him.

_"They induce temporary insomnia."_

_"Insomnia? What...does that mean what I think it means?" Toby said, dreading the answer._

_"If you think it means you can't sleep," Vi said, nodding, "then yes."_

Toby's heart dropped, remembering the last night he had spent awake. It wasn't going to happen again this time, no sir. This time would be different.

This time, if he heard any noise at all, he'd sprint off in the other direction in a last-ditch act of self-preservation.

_This is a good plan._

* * *

"This was a bad plan," Toby muttered. The forest was dark, and he couldn't see anything past the thick towering outlines of the trees. Which, at this point of the night, looked terrifying.

Every rustling bush, every snapping twig, every little subsidiary sound made itself aware to Toby, who was becoming more and more panicked as memories of the night prior forced themselves into his conscious.

Bracing his sack the way you would a weapon, Toby's mind raced actively as he made his way through Niccola Forest.

_Should I get out? Should I stay here? Which one's worse? _Toby looked up at the canopy, wondering if he could hide up there until the sun rose.

His heart leapt into his throat as he saw small shadows dart back and forth among the branches. The canopy was out.

Maybe if he tried hiding in a bush, Toby could last through the night...

The back of his head prickled as unseen eyes watched him warily from the brush.

Hiding in the bush was out of the question.

Toby's breathing slowed as he steadily ruled out his dwindling options for shelter. The noises surrounding him never showed their faces, never telling Toby exactly how close he was to death.

_Go to sleep,_ he urged himself. _Please, Toby, you've got to go to sleep._

His mind refused. Toby's blood rushed and his mind raced as he walked as calmly as he could through Niccola forest.

_Go to sleep!_

He fell face down on the grass.

_Go to sleep!_

He closed his eyes...

_Go! To! Sleep!_

And he screamed.

"GO TO SLEEP! GO TO SLEEP! GO TO SLEEP! GO TO SLEEP!"

* * *

Alice lifted her head off the wet grass, wrenching her face up in disgust. Whatever she had slept in, it most definitely was _not_ sanitary and was _not_ dew. The diary was opened in front of her. She went to pick it up, and froze upon reading the page.

"TEN MINUTES GO TO SLEEP GO TO SLEEP LET ME REST PLEASE LET ME CLOSE MY EYES AND SLEEP STOP TALKING TO ME STOP MAKING NOISE WHY DO I HEAR EVERYTHING LET ME GO TO SLEEP BE QUIET AND JUST LET ME REST I NEED REST DON'T EAT THE APPLES DON'T EAT THE APPLES DON'TEATTHEAPPLESDON'TEATTHEAPPLES SLEEPSLEEPSLEEPEPSELLEEPEPSPLEPEEPLSLELEEPEEELPESPLEEEEPEPLEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAASSSEEEE"

Shocked, Alice wondered who could have written this. Flipping a few pages back, she grimaced as the answer was presented to her.

"Ten minutes. I can't see straight I'm so scared. There are noiSES EVERYWHERE AND I DON'T KNOW WHAT ANY OF THEM ARE."

"Ten minutes since my last entry. The rustling from earlier just turned out to be the wind. I think. I don't know, when I checked, nothing was there."

"I am so bored. My last entry was, what, five minutes ago? I don't know. I'm hearing a rustling in a nearby bush. I'm going to go check it out." ~Toby

"Guys, as a warning, don't eat any of the apples in this forest. They suck. I mean, they taste good, but seriously don't eat them." ~Toby

"I'm writing in this thing because I'm bored. Don't expect any sort of important information to be written in this thing. I'm just going to do this regularly because, again, I'm bored because I can't go to sleep." ~Toby

Alice flipped back and forth between the two pages. The messages went on backwards until the first entry he had made.

"I got us a bag, guys! It's Tac's. I filled it with stuff I thought we were going to need. In hindsight, I probably should have included a weapon...sorry. The sun's setting and I can't go to sleep because of the apples I ate. I guess I'm the one paying the price. Which is fair, I guess. I ate all the apples, and I'd feel really bad if one of you had to suffer through the night because of it. Though...I'm feeling pretty bad right now. I'm going to at least try to find a place to wait it out. The way it's looking, though, this place isn't going to be indoors. I'm sorry if the body's a little dirty, Alice." ~Toby

Alice's attention immediately gravitated to herself, searching for any foreign substances. When she didn't find anything past the strange stuff she had apparently slept in earlier, she relaxed, resolving to get the watery stuff off of her as soon as she could. For now, though, she got a look at her surroundings. Behind her was the bag Toby had mentioned. After a quick check of its contents, she packed the journal and set off in the chilly morning forest.

Where exactly she was setting off _to,_ she couldn't decide yet.

"Uhh..." Alice tapped her foot in thought as she stared around her. The forest looked pretty similar to everything she had seen when she was with Vi, so she wasn't able to orient herself very well. Finally, she reasoned that if she walked long enough in a single direction, she would eventually get out of the forest.

"Then what?" she said to herself, slightly amused. The smile faded from her face as she realized that from the start, she never really had that much of a goal.

What, in the grand scheme of things, had she done since waking up in those fields such a long time ago? Drank some water and ate some apples. A bit of a more generous filter had her nearly get killed three times, and meeting someone that left as quickly as she had appeared.

Alice sat down on the grass, now in very deep thought. What was she _doing?_ What was her _purpose?_ Everything up until this point had been relatively pointless...

_But I'm not going to do pointless stuff anymore,_ Alice decided, standing up heroically. _I'm going to answer some questions. Who am I? Why did I wake up in that field? What's my purpose in life? How on earth did I get to the edge of the forest without moving?_

Alice was staring at a bright light penetrating the comparatively dark lighting of the forest. Shielding her eyes, Alice staggered blindly to the light, like a moth to a lantern. Except without the agonizing fiery death.

No, the agonizing death Alice would get upon exiting the forest would be a lot less fiery.

And a lot more wet.

And hopefully a lot less...death-y.

Alice plummeted from the precarious cliffside into the raging rivers of the ravine below. She didn't even have time to scream.

* * *

**You can only sleep at night.  
**You can only sleep at night.  
**You can only sleep at night.**  
**You can only sleep at night.**  
**You can only sleep at night.****  
**You may not rest now, there are monsters nearby.****

**Heh. Heh. Jokes in a fanbase outside of Kirby.**


	11. Three Sheets to the Wind

**In this chapter, I introduce this story's old person! Yay!**

* * *

_**Window to the Past**_

_**Chapter 11: Three Sheets to the Wind**_

The water rushed past Alice, sweeping her further down the ravine as helplessly as a leaf in a windstorm. She tried to scream, in hopes that anyone could help her, but her body froze up. She couldn't move. Alice was petrified with fear.

Adrian was shaken awake quickly. The water was freezing; he wasn't prepared for it. Trying to keep above the water's surface to retain the ability to breathe proved useless when sudden undertows tossed him downwards, smashing into the riverbed. Adrian, surrounded by what he was sure would be his watery grave, couldn't move. He was petrified with fear.

Toby was thrust into the water. The last thing he remembered was passing out in front of his diary; now he was in the middle of rapids. Terror welled up in his throat before the water did. Toby began to panic, choking on a mixture of water and tangible phobia as he was thrown carelessly further downstream.

One by one, everyone got thrust forward in a desperate attempt to save themselves. One by one, they fell victim to the water. One by one, they fell victim to fear. Their brain frantically switched between each of them, hoping that one would be able to grasp the situation, that one of them would be able to save them. But none of them could.

Alice was drowning. Adrian was drowning. Toby was drowning. David was drowning. Daphne was drowning. Tristan was drowning.

Their eyes closed as the surface grew further and further away. The warmth of the sun faded, being replaced by only cold water, harsh motion, and pain. In unison, each one of them let their last breath go, watching it float up to the sky they would never see again.

* * *

David felt so warm...Something was covering him. He wanted to find out what it was, but sleep felt so much more enticing right now. So he didn't even open his eyes. David let the slow gentle rocking motion lull him back to sleep...

But he found he couldn't. His body, no matter how much he figuratively pleaded with it, would not let slumber take it. Sighing, David rolled onto his back, and forced his eyes open.

David was indoors, in a small room. The quiet sound of water lapping up against a wall sang to him, in tandem with the smells of salt and...pasta. The room was coloured in a very warm colour-scheme. Light browns and warm oranges. It was all very relaxing. He was lying on a bed, covered halfway with a blanket. This was a little awkward due to the shape of his body; the blanket barely covered a quarter of him to avoid resting over his mouth. Nonetheless, he was quite a bit lot warmer than he had been when

David shot up, the memories of drowning coming back to him. Was he dead?! David tested this by moving the blankets. Well, he's not a ghost, at least.

"So," he said quietly to himself, "I'm either alive or in heaven."

Now that he was sitting up, David could look at the rest of the room. The room was clad with only a dresser, an armchair, and a small bed, which he was currently on. Throwing the covers off, he slipped off and onto the ground. His balance was a bit off, and he teetered back and forth, trying to regain his equilibrium. David braced himself on the bed, catching himself. He blinked twice. Did the room just move?

Accompanied by the sound of water, David shakily made his way to the door, swerving back and forth on the floor as if he were drunk. A sudden bump threw him against the door with a small 'thump'.

David rolled over on the ground and sat with his back against the door. He looked carefully outwards towards what looked like a small corridor. It was indeed small; only a bit wider than David himself. At the end, he saw some stairs leading upwards. On the other side of the corridor was what looked like a small bathroom. Since he didn't really need to use the facilities right now, he decided to go upstairs and see if anyone was there. After a few light collisions with the walls, David grabbed onto the railing. He climbed up the stairs, now getting the hang of the inherent swaying.

"Ay, you're up again, then?" David heard another voice call from up the stairs. "D'you need another drink, or are you going to explain yourself past you bein' a 'pilgrim'?"

David was instantly confused. Pilgrim? He hardly knew him! Climbing up the top of the stairs, he looked to his left to see an old man staring over his shoulder at what looked like the helm of the boat. He was wearing a dark blue suit with a lighter blue pair of pants. His hair was white, along with the large mustache and beard on his face. His grey eyes were crinkled, betraying a small smile underneath his mustache. "Uh...excuse me," David said quietly, "but where am I?"

"What's this?" he asked, his eyes' expression changing from wry to surprised. "You're actin' a bit different than I last remember you. Y'were a mite more curt with your way of speakin'...'I'm thirsty', I believe you said," he looked up at the curved white ceiling of the room. "The way you said it almost sounded like a command!"

David wasn't sure what he was talking about. All he knew was that he was dizzy, this guy was talking to him, and there was a lot of water out of the window. And the guy didn't answer his question.

"Where am I?" he asked again, realizing his mouth wasn't really moving the way he wanted it to.

"You're on my beaut, the Daybreak. A while back I saw you bein' swept out o' Niccola Ravine at a mighty fast pace. T'wern't movin', neither. O' course, that not movin' made you sink like a stone, so I acted quickly. I got your bag, too, though the stuff inside's a bit damp."

David nodded absently, what this man was saying barely making it into his head. Everything seemed distant to him, as if he were watching it from far away. "An' who're you?"

"I told you already," he said, his eyes crinkling up again. "Though that were before I 'lifted your spirits', so t' speak. I go by Glenn Charleston, but m' friends call me Glenn."

"Can..." David paused as if he forgot what he was about to say. "Can I call you Glenn?"

Glenn broke out into laughter. "Mate, unless you're a filthy no-good rotten scumbag, you're a friend to me! The only filthy no-good rotten scumbag that I consider my friend is my wife, but..." he stopped and leaned in. "I never said that, right?"

David, not getting what Glenn was implying, simply nodded absently.

Glenn straightened up, then turned back to the wheel. The two of them stood in silence a bit, before Glenn spoke again. "You feeling alright, mate? Y'seem t' be three sheets to the wind."

"Huh?" David drawled. "Oh. Uh...I've just been dizzy since I got up."

"Hmm...y'must have a low tolerance, then," he said quietly, as if to himself. "In hindsight, feedin' you whiskey might not've been the best idea."

"Whiskey? Izzat like, whiskers?" David asked.

Glenn broke into laughter again. "No, no, mate. Whiskey's a pick-me-up. Made from...grains, I believe. Tell you what; go out t' the front deck. The night air should clear up your mind."

David nodded but stayed where he stood. Glenn gave a gentle nod to a door near him, and David took the hint. Staggering over to the door, he pushed it open.

The warm night breeze gently caressed David as soon as he stepped out of the cabin. His mind did start to clear a bit, but he decided a little exposure wasn't enough. He wanted this headache to end. He stepped out into the night air.

Tracing his right stub against the wall of the cabin, David walked forward along the front. The polished wood felt cool and smooth against his feet and the soft wind felt pleasant. The smell of salt was stronger here. As he walked forward, he felt small bumps, as if the ground were moving. A side glance told him his sack was on the 'front deck' as Glenn had referred to it. Stumbling forward, David rested his chin on the railing and looked down.

All Daphne saw was water.

"AAH!" she screeched, backpedaling madly from the railing. She tripped on a deck chair and the next thing she knew, she was sprawled out on the deck.

"Y'alright there, Mabel?" Daphne heard a voice behind her call, as if behind a pane of glass. Looking back, she saw that he _was_ behind a pane of glass.

"Y...yes, I'm fine, thank you," Daphne called back, dusting herself off. In the back of her mind, she wondered who had introduced themselves as 'Mabel'. Probably Alice; she was the only girl, besides her.

"There y'go again," the man marveled. "D'you have bipolar 'r somethin'? Naw, that'd be two, wouldn'it? And you have three, at least."

_He's talking about the alters,_ Daphne conceded. _I suppose I could tell him._

"I have Multiple Personality Disorder, I believe," Daphne said slowly, staring up at the man through the glass.

The man motioned for her to join him in the cabin.

_Here we go,_ she thought tiredly.

* * *

"So there's six of you?" Glenn asked, completely enthralled. "That's amazin'. I can't imagine livin' like that. And you're Daphne, you said?"

Daphne nodded. "Yes. The others are Toby, who's quiet and apologetic; Adrian, who's...er...assertive; Alice, who seems interested with what the others think; David, who simply seems to be an excitable child; and Tristan. I admittedly don't know much of him, because he revealed himself only yesterday."

Glenn nodded. "I think I understand. It's somethin' straight out of a science fiction novel, but I get it."

"And I want to thank you for saving my life," Daphne said. "I appreciate that."

"Y' appreciate it?" Glenn let out a small breath. "Well, it's thanks, though I've ne'er heard it expressed quite like that."

Daphne's professional smile faded a bit at that comment, but Glenn didn't seem to notice. "You said you talk t' the others through a journal, ah?"

"Right," Daphne confirmed, silently cursing herself for not saying something.

"That...might be a problem," Glenn's mustache curved downward. "As I told you, you were in the water...an' I'm assumin' the journal was in the sack..."

Daphne's eyes bulged as she caught on to what he was saying.

"Not to worry, though," Glenn quipped as he turned around. He turned back towards Daphne holding another generic journal. "I hope this'll do?"

Daphne took it carefully from his hands. "Yes, thank you. You don't mind if I write now, do you?"

Glenn waved his hand. "Go ahead. I need to drive the boat, anyways."

_A boat,_ Daphne realized, blinking. _We're on a boat._

* * *

"Necessary update," Alice wrote. "The man's name is Glenn Charleston. We're on a boat called the Daybreak. This is our new journal since the last one got wet. I think he got David drunk."

"He did WHAT?!" Alice wrote harshly. "He got David DRUNK?!"

"Man, I wish I was there," Adrian wrote, smirking. "I hear the little ones get really wild when they're wasted."

"...Are you usually like this?" Tristan asked.

"Glenn's watching me," Toby wrote slowly. "Should I be concerned?"

"No, he's simply interested in the concept of having multiple people in one body," Daphne explained.

"It is kinda wierd," David admitted. "It's not normal, is it?"

"Hold on...we're on a boat?" Alice asked. "As in...a boat on the water? Shouldn't we _avoid_ water? Remember what happened the last three times we got water? The first time we almost drowned, the second time we got our stuff stolen, and the third time we almost drowned!"

"Well, we don't really have much choice," Adrian said matter-of-factly. "If any of you want to abandon ship in favour for land, I invite you to Wait, don't. I'm stuck with you idiots. If you jump ship, I'll strangle you to Dang it, this frickin' disorder makes it so hard to threaten you."

"Poor Adrian can't make us feel bad," Alice wrote. "Don't worry, I'm sure you'll think of something. It's your calling, after all."

"Look, I know you're all having fun, but does anyone know where this boat is going?" Tristan asked.

* * *

"I can answer that for you," Glenn said from over Tristan's shoulder, making him jump. He whipped around to face the sailor, his breath quick and shallow.

"I didn't mean to startle you like that, er...Tristan," Glenn apologized as he looked over at the page. Tristan quickly turned around and shut it before facing Glenn again.

He gave a wry smile. "We're headed to the northwest coast of Ostlea, specifically the city of Wayford. I have a small shipment I'm making there."

"Wh...I have no idea what you're talking about," Tristan's breathing didn't slow. He didn't care what the others said; he didn't know Glenn, and this guy could strangle him at any moment.

"Right, Daph told me you got yourself amnesia, too. Right bad luck you have, there. Ostlea's the continent. Pretty varied as far as climates go; though it's pretty southern, so y'have to go north to Corfort for colder weather. Wayford's a harbor city; lotta business there, 'specially for someone like me. I've been going back and forth between Wayford an' Newdell on the south side of Ostlea for a pretty long time. There've been times I've gone further, even to far-off places like Vertlea an' Byholt, but I'm gettin' older, and the oceans aren't treating me as well as they did some twenty years ago."

Needless to say, the most Tristan got from that was that he was taking him to a city, and he had said a lot of names that he was probably going to forget. Without saying a word, he turned back to his diary and wrote down where they were going.

"We're headed to Wayford, not Corfort. Corfort's a continent," Glenn corrected quietly.

Tristan gave a curt nod, crossed out Corfort, then hunched over the diary so Glenn couldn't read over his shoulder anymore.

Amused, Glenn stood back up and gripped the wheel again. "You're an interesting one, you are. I won't soon forget about you."

* * *

The night sky was more expansive than Toby had ever seen it before. Even in the meadows, it never seemed this wide. The black waters below them provided a mirror image, giving the illusion that the _Daybreak _was sailing through the stars. The moon was a crescent, though Toby wasn't sure whether it was waxing or waning. Beyond its curved outline, though, Toby could see nebulas and galaxies twisting and arching through the cosmos. He had never seen this much colour in the night sky. Toby always thought it was just black and white._  
_

He couldn't have been more wrong.

Deep purples, dark blues, and faded greens stretched across the sky, accenting the white specks scattered across the sky like beads on silk. The soft wind blew Toby backwards as he craned his head up to gaze at the stars.

The best thing, he thought, was the near complete silence of it all.

The only thing he heard was the quiet lapping of the water against the hull of the ship and the soft hum of the motor. Nothing else disturbed him. Nothing else intruded on this moment.

The port side of the ship gave Toby a view of shadowy outlines. He guessed this must be land. From time to time, he spotted flickering lights on the shore, reasoning them to be villages or cities. He was left to wonder how many miles he had traveled now.

Toby felt the rough fabric of a deck chair at his back. Taking the opportunity, he lied down and closed his eyes. Toby slept.

* * *

Daphne woke up to relatively clammy air. Forcing her eyes open, Daphne quickly saw that the morning was filled with fog. She squinted but was unable to see anything beyond the bow of the ship. Turning back, she saw Glenn steering the ship. Without much else to do, she entered the cabin to escape the chilly air.

"Glenn," Daphne called. "Are you going to be alright going through this fog?"

The sailor laughed lightly, not taking his eyes off the window. "I told...Tristan, I believe. I told 'im last night I've been up an' down this coast so many times I know it off by heart. I could do it with my eyes shut."

"...You aren't going to, are you?" Daphne asked uneasily.

"Might as well, with all this fog," Glenn answered, gesturing to all the mist coating the boat. "But don't you fret. Barrin' other boats, there isn't any surprises on the way to Wayford."

"That's good to hear," Daphne said simply. The two of them stood in silence for a while, the only noise being the louder rumble of the engine.

Glenn broke it. "So, Daph. What's your plan once you get to Wayford?"

"I...don't know," Daphne admitted. "Really, most of the time, we've simply just been trying to stay alive."

Glenn gave her an approving nod. "A respectable goal, t' be sure. Stayin' alive's most of the time a good star t' shoot for. But when you get to Wayford, how exactly are you _going_ to stay alive?"

"I'm not sure," Daphne said "I'm not familiar with the layout of Wayford. Most of the time, we play it by ear, so to speak."

"Y'might be disappointed, then," Glenn said, shaking his head. "Wayford isn't a city you can simply 'make it' in. It's big an' unfriendly, 'specially if you don't have a job."

Daphne looked down at the ground. "It's that bad, is it?"

"Well...it's alright if you're passin' through. But if you want my opinion, stayin' alive shouldn't be your only goal."

Daphne looked up at Glenn. "What do you mean?"

"Well...you have amnesia, don't you?" Glenn asked. "Why don't you find out who y'are?"

"I..." Daphne trailed off. "I never really thought about that."

"You're a puffball, aren't you? Northeast of Wayford; right below the continent o' Corfort, there's a settlement o' people like you. Respectable size, too. If I were t' hazard a guess, I'd say you're from there. Why don't you try headin' to Wyvern?"

"Wyvern?" Daphne asked blankly. "That's its name?"

Glenn nodded, then looked back out in front of the boat.

Wyvern...for some reason, Daphne didn't like the name. It had a bit of a darker connotation than something like Niccola or Wayford. Perhaps that was where Vi was from?

"Though...I've heard there's some strange goings-on in that part o' the world," Glenn said absently. "If you're gonna go, be careful. I don't want t' read about your death in the papers, y' hear? Though," Glenn gave a small chuckle. "I don't quite enjoy readin' about death in general. Ah, there it is. Wayford."

Daphne looked forward from the bow of the boat. From what she could see, thoughts and opinions already filled her head about what Wayford would be like.

Probably terrifying.

* * *

**I describe Wayford and how David got drunk next chapter!**

**...I'm wondering if this story should be rated T...**


	12. Which Way to Wyvern?

**Coming up with all those town names was hard...I tried to make them sound not-Japanese, and not like something out of LOTR. I don't think many of you realize how hard that is. IT'S HARD. I ended up using a generator and using the ones that caught my eye. I'm pretty sure it worked by mixing and matching a bunch of prefixes and suffixes. That's why two of the places had the same suffix, 'lea'; Ostlea and Vertlea. But Wayford I came up with on my own. And Wyvern. And Niccola.**

* * *

**_Window to the Past_**

**_Chapter 12: Which Way to Wyvern?  
_**

It is common knowledge that if left alone, everything that exists will eventually fall into a state of disorder. Some call this principle 'entropy', though the word is mostly applied to thermodynamics. Nonetheless, the fact remains that, given enough time and neglection, nothing will stand in a state of order forever. It is a physical impossibility. This law does not work in reverse. Without outside influence, what has fallen into discord will not sort itself out. All things in this plane of existence are doomed to an eventual fate of eternal chaos.

I raised an eyebrow.

"What, I'm not allowed to use the word 'chaos'?" my coauthor protested, folding his arms angrily.

"Not like that!" I said, pointing at the laptop screen. "You're supposed to be describing Wayford! You're just talking about thermodynamics!"

Chaos furrowed his brow and started massaging his temples. "If you let me keep going one more sentence, I would've gotten to Wayford."

I rolled my eyes. "But why the encyclopedia entry? It's just...it's so cliche! Describing Chaos because of your name!"

Suddenly, my coauthor stopped all motion. His hands clenched into fists. "Oh, yeah. Because this is so much worse than making a 'Kirby' with 'multiple' personalities!"

"That's just a coincidence!" I yelled indignantly. "And my name is _not_ Multikirby!"

"Really?" Chaos said in mock surprise. "That's what all the reviewers are calling you. I guarantee you that when they think about the author of this story, they don't think 'Cameron'. They think 'Multikirby'. Because that's your name."

"Not everybody!" I retorted.

Chaos nodded, exasperated. "Well, of course, I don't mean your family. I'm not stupid."

"My name is _Cameron_."

"One thing's for sure," Chaos sighed. "Nobody's going to be thinking 'Multikirby' now. Congratulations."

"Just get on with the story."

* * *

Wayford's silhouette cleared as it made its way through the morning fog. From the moment the shadows were dispelled, it was clear to Daphne that it had seen better days. Daphne could make out flickering neon signs scaling the sides of select buildings, the letters of each faded out enough that the message each sign was trying to convey became unintelligible. The buildings themselves were in various states of decay; some with large chunks missing from the upper floors, as if someone had begun construction, then abandoned it nearly immediately. The sky was a slate grey, matching the somber colour palette of Wayford.

"She doesn't look like much," Glenn sighed wistfully through the open windshield, drawing Daphne's attention. "But I remember Wayford back in her heyday. A sparklin' metropolis with a bright future. O' course, it didn't turn out that way, did it?"

Daphne didn't respond. Although her negative predictions about Wayford had been dead wrong, she wasn't sure if this option was much better. She began to wonder how bad it would be if she simply stayed on this boat with Glenn. Sure, they'd be near water all the time, which terrified her, but at least she'd be surrounded by danger than submerged in it.

_But I can't do that, can I?_ Daphne thought to herself, sighing. _I can't make Glenn take me. I'm going to have to get off this boat at some point._

"You're not _scared,_ are you?" Glenn asked, another small chuckle escaping him. "It may not look pretty, Daph, but s'long as you're only passin' through, y'shouldn't run into any problems."

"Are you sure?" Daphne asked uneasily. "And actually, yes, I am a bit nervous. Excuse me for saying this, but Wayford doesn't strike me as a very safe place."

Glenn shook his head patronizingly. "I wish I could help 'r give you some insider info, but in all my years, I've never ventured further than a thousand steps from _Daybreak_. I ship cargo, 'n there's a grocery store right up near the coast that I use t' keep me stocked. Never gone further than that."

Daphne's heart sank. She didn't like Wayford. She did not think Wayford was a good place. "Even so, isn't there anything you can say?" she pleaded. "Anything that would keep me...well...alive?"

Glenn's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates before he threw his head back and laughed again. "Oh, dear, y'think your _life's_ in danger? No, no! As long as you get out of the city by nightfall, you should be fine!"

Something told Daphne that she wasn't going to make it out of Wayford by nightfall.

* * *

As Wayford drew closer, Daphne and Glenn stood together in silence, watching the buildings grow even clearer as they worked through the thinning morning mist.

"Glenn?" Daphne asked absently.

"Mmm," Glenn mumbled, affirming that he had heard her.

"Did you get David drunk?"

Glenn gave her a look. "Not on purpose, o' course. 'Bout thirty minutes after I fished you out o' the water, you come back up here an say you're wantin' somethin' to drink," Glenn explained. "Now me, bein' tired an' all from sailin' the entire night, thought y' meant you wanted somethin' to _drink_. Y' had almost drowned, after all; I thought y' might've needed somethin' to cool off with. So I gave y' a shot o' whiskey, and you drank it. Then y' went back to bed, an' came back up later askin' who I was."

Daphne frowned. She'd have to ask the others about that.

"I'm gettin' ready to dock," Glenn said suddenly, changing the subject. "Could y' do me a favour and go out onto the port side, see if the bumpers are tied t' the hull?"

"Ah..." Daphne blinked, missing around forty percent of his request. "Could you repeat that, please?"

Glenn sighed, smirked, and tried again.. "Go to the left side of the boat and tell me if there're any rubber cylinders tied to the body of the boat."

"Okay."

Daphne walked out of the cabin to the front deck and peered over the left side. After a bit of searching, she saw small white cylinders evenly spaced apart. She assumed these were the bumpers. She looked back at Glenn through the windshield and nodded.

After another five minutes, they had docked. Glenn stepped out from behind the wheel and handed Daphne her bag.

"I don't like leavin' you like this either, Daph," Glenn said solemnly. "But there isn't much more I can do."

Daphne, for once, didn't know what to say. But the fear on her face must've been evident because Glenn's face softened.

"You'll be fine, Daph," he comforted as he turned around to pick up a crate. "You've got six people on your side! That's five more than I've got, and I've gotten through okay, right?"

Daphne nodded absently, though she still didn't know whether she'd make it. If_she _couldn't handle this city...

"One more thing," Glenn said as he hauled a crate onto a dolly. "You're the main one, aren't you? You've gotta take care of the others, right?" Glenn shook his head. "You're uptight, Daph. You've gotta loosen up. Workin' forever ain't good for you. Let's hope our paths cross again, Daph. Good luck."

_What did he say? I'm the main_ one? Daphne thought in surprise._ What does that mean? _

Nonetheless, five minutes later, Daphne found herself staring at Wayford alone. The streets were nearly deserted, and the little amount of pedestrians that _were_ there didn't fill Daphne's heart with confidence. They were the dark type, the kind to slink through the shadows, the ones with the look in their eyes that betrayed their desperation. With low expectations and a heavy sack, Daphne walked through the streets of Wayford, hoping to make it out alive.

Daphne realized early on that she had no idea which direction to go. Where was this 'Wyvern' she was supposed to be heading off to? She made a quick note in the journal for the others in case they surfaced before continuing.

"Excuse me, sir?" Daphne called to a passing pedestrian. When he turned, Daphne nearly froze under his icy glare. He looked like a large ape with a hammer.

"...What?" the monkey growled.

Daphne tried to tell him, but her voice came out small and weak. "Would you...know...where Wyvern is?"

"Wyvern?" he laughed mirthlessly. "You should be setting off there as soon as you can if you know what's good for you, cream puff."

"I'm...trying to do that, sir," Daphne said patiently, now aware of the fact that this person evidently did not like her race.

"Then GET OUT OF MY FACE!" he roared before storming off, mumbling something about jobs.

Adrian held back the urge to run after him. He had no idea what context the monkey had said that to him in, but frankly, he didn't care. Shaking his head, he pulled out the journal in hopes that it gave _him_ some context to his situation.

"Wyvern?" he mumbled, reading Daphne's note. "Well, it's better than wandering around until we die."

Adrian, as it turned out, took a much more aggressive approach to getting directions.

"Hey, you!" he yelled, waving down what looked like a brownish puffball. When it turned around, however, he realized that it was something different. For one, the face was two-toned, with a cream-coloured interior. Secondly, it didn't have a mouth. Third, it looked absolutely terrified.

"Ah..." Adrian was caught off guard by the not-have-mouthiness. "...Where's Wyvern from here?"

The small lookalike didn't move save for the mortified shaking in its boots. Adrian started to feel bad for the thing when another voice piped up.

"Hey! Leave him alone!"

Adrian looked up at the source of the voice and tried not to gape when he saw an eye stalking towards him. "B-back off! I was just asking for directions!"

"Yeah, right! As soon as I look away, there he goes, soaring into the horizon from a Megaton Punch!" the eye retorted.

This only made the poor round thing shiver even harder.

"Why the heck would I do that?!" Adrian yelled irritably.

The eye raised his...stubs...in harried uncertainty. "Why do you puffballs kill anything?! That's what I'm trying to figure out, and until I do, stay the heck away from us!"

_This isn't working,_ Adrian thought to himself.

_Well, no duh! You're being too mean!_

"Aah! What the heck!?" Adrian yelled out loud, earning a look from the eye and a nervous twitch from the coward.

_Here, let me give it a go._

"I'm really really sorry if I offended you, sir, but I only want directions to Wyvern," Mia said patronizingly. "If you could just point me in the right direction, I'll be out of your way. I've been trying all morning, and it hasn't really worked that well..."

Somehow, the eye's...eye...narrowed. "You're headed to Wyvern, huh? Well, if you're going there, I might as well tell you. Only place your kind belongs until you're ready to make peace, anyways. Head that way, halfway between that mountain and where the sun rises in the north. You'll see Wyvern on the horizon. Now goodbye!"

"Wait, sorry, sorry," Mia said quickly before the two of them could walk away. "There were just two things that I didn't really get."

The eye sighed, clearly wanting to be finished with the conversation, but turned around anyways.

"First, uh...you said that our kind hadn't made peace yet. I'm kinda new, so I don't really know what that means."

The small one cowering behind the eye peeked out a bit, obviously intrigued by that comment. The eye turned to him and gently pushed him backwards. "Keep away for now, Dee. He could still be dangerous. Or she," he whispered, giving Mia a strange look. "What do you mean 'you don't really know what that means'!? Why do you think there's a Wyvern in the first place?"

Mia gave a sheepish smile in reply. "I'm sorry, really. But I don't even really know what Wyvern is, only that I'm supposed to go there."

"You have amnesia or something?" The eye said with a mirthless chuckle. When he got nothing but a blank stare from Mia, he turned much more serious. "Oi, you gotta be kidding me...How many fingers am I holding up?"

Mia, again, said nothing. The eye, realizing what he just said, scoffed at himself. "Sorry, stupid question. Do you seriously not know anything about you puffballs and the rest of us?"

"Guess not," Mia said with a sad smile.

"Oi, vey..." the eye huffed. "I'm not in an exposition-y mood, so I'll make this quick. You puffballs are fine most of the time. But if you have a vendetta against someone, anyone even with the potential to hurt you gets the slaughter. That's why I stepped in so quickly. You guys are dangerous."

"W...wait, wait, wait, WHAT?!" Mia yelled in shock, attracting the attention of quite a few pedestrians. She quickly noticed this and shrunk down. "...Sorry..."

Dee looked ready to bolt, and even the eye looked mortified. "Look, you don't seem bad. But I _really_ have some place to be and I _really_ can't be seen talking to you. Don't take the wrong way."

And he was off.

Mia struck a mildly annoyed pose. "Well, at least we got the way to Wyvern. But did you catch what he said about the sun, guys? He said it rose in the north!"

She waited for a response but got none. "...Guys?...Oh, you have to be joking."

* * *

"C'mon, guys, you've been doing this for like for-EVER! You need to get away from this journal!" Mia wrote exasperated. "But I got the way to Wyvern. We have to go between the far off mountain and where the sun rises in the north. Does anyone else find that weird? Like, do you feel like it should be somewhere else? Like...east-west or something? Is it just me?"

* * *

Closing the journal, Mia threw it into the sack and began making her way through Wayford, avoiding eye contact with anyone she walked past. Judging from what Dee's companion said, talking to them wouldn't be a good idea. Mia didn't really like the sound of that but didn't have much choice at this point. So she kept her head low and her trap shut.

This didn't last long.

"Okay," she mumbled to herself. "Wyvern is between a far-off mountain and where the sun rises. Where would that..." Mia trailed off as she noticed the sun on its way to set in front of herself. Realizing what this meant, she turned around and headed the other way.

"I can just use the moon as a gauge. It's pretty much the same thing, right...?" Again, she trailed off as she saw the moon rising in the west. "Oh, you've got to be _joking!_"

Her eyes drifted upwards in exasperation, realizing she'd have to wait until morning to continue her journey.

"Well, maybe I'll finally be able to get acquainted with the others," she reasoned as she entered an abandoned building that seemed to still be under construction. A long climb later, she came to the level where the walls thinned out and gave way to the reddish beams that made the outline of the building. By this time, the moon had risen quite high in the sky. Sitting down on the edge of the building, she tried talking to the others again.

"Do none of you really understand how to do this?" she asked. After another response, she sighed. "I'll have to work on that later..."

* * *

"Okay, I'm just going to write here because we seem to switch a bit faster when we're talking through this thing. I guess I'll start with an introduction. My name's Mia and I know who all of you guys are, so you don't have to introduce yourselves. I've been around since...well, after David but before Tristan. I mean, I was there before then, of course, but...I guess I _knew_ I was here between David and Tristan."

"...Did you get David drunk?" Alice wrote suspiciously.

"Hey, I see you got the directions to Wyvern," Daphne wrote, drawing an arrow to the paragraph above. "Thank you for that."

"No prob," Mia responded. "And no, I didn't get David drunk. I've been pretty inactive up until now because I wanted to make a dramatic entrance, but Adrian was botching up that conversation with Dee and the other one so much I just had to step in. Speaking of conversations, actually," Mia continued. "I can't help noticing that you guys are still using this thing."

"What thing?" Toby asked. "The journal?"

"No, the pen," Adrian said sarcastically. "Of course she means the journal! I heard her talking to me when I was talking to the mutant eye!"

"She was talking to you?! While you were awake?!" Tristan asked incredulously. "How did you do that?!"

"I'm surprised you guys aren't, really," Mia said simply. "I thought you were sticking to this thing for sentimental value or something like that, but I guess you really can't do it. That's weird. I mean, why can I do it when you guys can't? We're the same person, aren't we?"

"We haven't really figured out the logistics about this 'switching' thing," Toby answered. "So...we aren't able to do the talking thing. Sorry."

"You apologize a lot, Toby," Daphne observed. "Do you feel you're inferior to the rest of us?"

"Okay, shut up!" Adrian wrote, angrily circling Daphne's post. "You're no shrink, okay? We're all in the same boat, so stop acting like you're better than us!"

"Well...I guess if I have to I'll write in the journal," Mia spoke as she wrote, after a bit of thought. "I mean, it's a little unnatural to me, but I can deal. I wouldn't want to seem better than you guys, since...y'know, that's a hot spot for Hothead."

Alice circled 'Hothead' and wrote a little blurb that said "I'm totally using this from now on."

"...Guys..." Tristan wrote. "Flip to the back of the book."

* * *

Mia, curious, did so. What she saw made her heart leap up into her throat.

Littering the last few pages of the journal were crude, dark drawings depicting hordes of dark oppressing creatures. Their eyes seemed to glow through the white paper on the other side. The lines were thick and rough, as if they had been drawn with a fifteen-pound weight strapped to the pen. There were small depictions of a round thing staring up at these figures in what was obviously fear. These sketches ranged from the round thing being surrounded by the tall dark figures, to the round thing experiencing pain from these figures...and there was water in every drawing. Every drawing...except one.

One had fire.

* * *

**I actually seriously didn't realize the thing with Cece and 'Multikirby' until this chapter. I'm dead serious.**

**Also, yay, that talky thing where you say a bunch of adjective-nouny stuff with abuse of 'thing', 'stuff', and hyphens like when you know what you want to say but you don't have the word so you say this run-on sentence-type thing to get your point across kind of like Buffy! That thing! Yay!**

**Also also, for those of you not familiar with the Kirby series, the species that appeared were Bonkers, Waddle Dee, Waddle Doo. Look 'em up if you want to see what I was talking about.  
**


	13. True North and a Little to the Left

**I wonder how close or far off you guys are to guessing the truth.**

* * *

_**Window to the Past**_

_**Chapter 13: True North and a Little to the Left**_

The sketches were crude, and only got cruder as they progressed. But this only succeeded in making them more terrifying. Who were these black figures? Why were they so big? Why are they always near water? Why is water in every picture? Is that water?

"Who drew these?" Mia wrote, trying to keep her shaky handwriting as neat as possible.

"Mine," someone wrote in a tiny font, below Mia's comment.

Whoever had written it hadn't signed it, but Alice recognized the handwriting. "David?! It was you? What spawn of the Underworld caused you to draw those nightmares?!"

"Nitemares, I think," David answered. "Is that bad?"

"I thought I was the only one," Adrian admitted. "I guess I'm not. They're about these dark figures and water and drowning. I hate those things."

"I've been having them, too," Toby wrote. "Same thing as you two, I think. Every time, I can't breathe."

"We may all be having them, then," Daphne assumed. "That night when the dark blob attacked us, I woke up gasping for breath from a nightmare I had."

"So we're all having these nightmares, then," Alice guessed. "I guess we share dreams and stuff? We've all dreamed about the creepy people and the drowning?"

"There's fire, too," Tristan wrote shakily. "There's one with fire."

"I've never had a dream with fire in it," Mia protested.

"I think he means the drawings," Alice answered. "There's one with fire in it, and it's...different. There aren't any dark figures in it. Just the round thing."

"It's safe to assume the round thing is us," Daphne surmised.

"Yeah, thats me," David affirmed. "I didnt get the hot one from a nitghtmare though. I just remeber it."

"What is it?" Alice asked. "No offense, but it's a bit hard to make out."

"It's...hot. And there's hurting on the neck, too," David wrote.

"?!" Adrian wrote, drawing an arrow to the word 'neck'. "How do I know what this thing is!? We don't have one!"

"The neck connects the head to the shoulders. Glenn had one," Daphne added helpfully.

Adrian simply angrily circled the words 'head' and 'shoulders' in the same manner.

"What does that mean?" Tristan asked in a small font. "How do we know about having pain on a neck if we don't have one?"

"I don't remember having pain on my neck," Alice responded. "It's David that remembers it."

"My head (?) is hurting just thinking about this..." Toby wrote. "I'm going to get down from this building; the heights aren't really helping me."

* * *

Toby closed the journal, sighing.

"What did I just read...?" he whispered to himself. After a long pause, he reluctantly opened the journal to the back, where David's drawings were. A bit of searching rewarded him with the picture of fire that Tristan mentioned.

It was strange. There was a circle; that, Toby surmised, was them. Then there was a sort of rectangular thing to the left of them. Under this rectangle were sharp jagged lines; the fire. And finally, underneath the circle was a vertical line that seemed to cut partway into the shape. Maybe this was the pain in the neck...?

Toby slapped the journal shut. For some reason, looking at that made him uneasy. He threw the journal back into his bag and threw it over his shoulder. In the back of his mind as he walked back down the stairs Toby marvelled at how inexplicably light the bag felt, despite it holding a pillow, a journal and a comforter, among other things.

_Maybe it's enchanted or something,_ he guessed as he stepped outside of the abandoned site onto street level. The sun was rising in the north, which gave Toby a good idea of where to go until he cleared the city. Exiting Wayford would be a simple ordeal.

Toby, eyes open for any kind of danger or threat that could confront him, walked down the city streets, following the faint, warm, comforting glow the sun made on the sky.

This was, of course, in complete contrast to what he was experiencing in the streets. Toby stared at the ground uncomfortably, the stares of unknown strangers prickling his back. Every action, he felt, was scrutinized to the point of prejudice, to the point that he felt as if he should apologize to Wayford itself just for being in it. Toby didn't dare look up in fear of connecting the unsettling feeling to a pair of menacing eyes. Fear slowly accumulated in his throat as he squinted his eyes shut, hoping against hope he was closer to Wyvern than when he started.

Finally, Toby gathered the courage to look up, if only to get his bearings. He saw that he was about to ram into someone walking in front of him. Toby froze, his heart dropping into his stomach.

"I'm sorry!" he blurted out without thinking.

"Huh?" the figure turned around, giving Toby a better look. It seemed to be male, and the way he was dressed reminded Toby of a clown. He hopped back and forth on his two long feet, giving the illusion that he was much taller than he actually was. His blue pointed hat flopped back and forth in rhythm with his jumps. Toby did not notice any of this.

What he noticed was the shortening fuse of the round black bomb in his grip.

Toby felt like he wanted to puke.

"What're you saying sorry for?" he asked in a youthful innocent voice that completely contrasted the impending threat of his portable pocket explosion. "Didja steal something from me and the guilt weighing on your soul compelled you to return it?"

Toby blanched. "I'm sorry," he squeaked.

The clown looked nonplussed. "And you're saying it again! You really must've done something bad!"

"Th-th-th..." Toby stammered, his eyes racing back and forth between the clown's face and the clown's bomb. "It...it'll explode..."

"Oh, yeah," the clown gave a casual glance to the round black sphere of death beside him. "I should probably get rid of this." He then proceeded to toss it over his shoulder the way you'd toss a wad of paper over your shoulder. Toby reacted the way you would if someone had tossed a wad of paper over their shoulder if that wad of paper contained about a good five pounds of nitroglycerin.

"So why'd you say sorry?" the clown asked as the bomb rested on the curb about five meters behind them.

Toby stared fearfully at the bomb as he tried futilely to continue. "I-I-I was about to bump into you-"

**_BOOM_**

"AUGH!" Toby screamed in terror.

The clown gave no clue that he had even acknowledged what had conspired behind him. His face was shadowed by the billowing flames behind him as he gave Toby the same expectant look he had before the explosion.

"I, uh..." Toby had nearly lost all capacity for thought. "I'm sorry I a-almost ran into you."

"Oh, that's it?" he asked, surprised. "Well, apology accepted, then! I'm Nac, a Poppy Bro Jr.! Nice to meet you!"

"Toby, okay, thanks, bye!" Toby said in a rush before dashing past a very shocked Nac.

_I have to get out of this city before it kills me!_ Toby thought hurriedly, gripping his sack tightly as he doubled his pace, trying not to look at the flaming wreckage the bomb had left.

After what felt like forever, Toby finally felt the familiar soft prick of grass against his feet. He let out a sigh, looking back at Wayford. He dug into his sack, looking for the journal in order to reaffirm where he was headed.

"We have to go between the far off mountain and where the sun rises in the north," Toby read, looking up at the horizon. He had gotten out of Wayford quick enough that he was able to still see the sun touching the horizon. He looked for the 'far off mountain', and found it slightly to the left of the sun. This difference was so slight, in fact, that Toby had to shade his eyes to block out the sun so he could see properly.

"How do I go _between_ the two...?" he mumbled to himself. "They're basically right in line with each other."

Heaving another sigh, he began walking towards the horizon, hoping things became clearer as time went on.

* * *

"Uh...That was good," I said uncomfortably, avoiding eye contact with my co-author. "I liked the descriptions."

Chaos said nothing in return. Instead, he gave a subtle nod, signalling he had heard.

I gripped my left arm, still looking at the ground. Our earlier conversation was still ringing in my head. "I'm sorry about what I said earlier. About-"

"Stereotypes, I know," Chaos interrupted. Turning his head towards me slightly, I could see a small smile on his lips. "You really know how to get my goat, Cameron."

"And..." I hesitated. I was unsure of how to word my apology. "If you feel like I'm writing way more than you, I could-"

"This is your story," he interjected again. "It says your username in the description twice. It's normal for you to write a bit more than me. Let's not get sappy, though. Remember, this stuff is being recorded," he reminded me, jerking his head towards the laptop in front of him.

I walked up beside him and observed the words forming. "And we can't delete any of this?" I asked.

"Afraid not," he affirmed.

"But we can delete parts of _our_ story," I continued.

"Yeah, because we write it."

_Then who writes this...?_ I wonder, staring at my own thoughts appearing on the computer screen.

Chaos stifled a laugh. "Nothing's sacred, I guess. At least, not from a first-person perspective."

I tried to laugh along, but the strange descriptions were bothering me.

Suddenly, I felt a lot more powerless than I had about two minutes ago.

* * *

"Where did you get these directions from anyways, Mia?" Toby asked through the journal as he walked. His handwriting was a bit shaky, but otherwise legible.

"Well, there was this huge eye thing and she hated puffballs. Like, a lot. And she was yelling at me because I'd bumped into her friend, whose name was Dee. And then I told her I wanted to go to Wyvern, and (I don't know her name but I don't want to call her eye thing so I'll call her Sue because that's a nice name) Sue was like 'Yeah, it figures you want to go there' and I was like 'What do you mean?' And then Sue said that puffballs are _killers!_ And I find that hard to believe because Fey seemed nice enough. Anyways, Sue found out I had amnesia, and then she told me where to go and then left."

"...Fey?" Alice asked. "Who's Fey?"

"The deaf girl we met," Toby answered. "She tried to introduce herself as 'Fey', but it came out like 'Vi'. I had to coach her on how to say her name."

"It was sooo cute!" Mia interjected.

* * *

Tristan squinted at the huge paragraph Mia had written. She'd gotten this from someone who hated puffballs?

He shook his head. Those directions were bogus. He had a gut feeling. If Sue hated puffballs so much, why would she help him? What made him different?

_Nothing. I'm not going to that mountain,_ he decided adamantly. _I'll go...this way instead._

And Tristan, in complete disregard to everyone else, began heading west.

* * *

**If I posted David's drawings to Photobucket or something, would you guys care? I mean, I'm pretty sure it's legal, FanFiction-wise since the Rules &amp; Guidelines don't say anything about hyperlinks. But I'm just thinking I'm not really doing a good job of describing the sketches. Yay or nay?**


	14. I Can Do It

**So...the Photobucket thing. I have no votes for 'nay' and two for 'yay'. So I'll draw the sketches, and post the link in the next chapter. A'ight?**

* * *

_**Window to the Past**_

_**Chapter 14: I Can Do It**_

_They're all idiots,_ Tristan thought sourly. _They're so naive. That thing was going to kill us. And to think I was going to walk right into her trap._

He had been walking for a while now. Wayford was out of sight, and the sun was high up in the sky. High enough so that it was unclear which way north was. Tristan grimaced inwardly.

"They're going to hate me for this," he mumbled. But he kept walking, readjusting his grip on the sack over his shoulder. The journal seemed to call to him, but he ignored it. He couldn't afford to switch right now. He wasn't quite sure how the switch worked, but the journal seemed to speed it up. Somehow.

Tristan looked up at the sky again and frowned. The sun was already halfway to setting. _The days go by pretty fast,_ he remarked. Then he realized he didn't have any shelter. The field also seemed to be quite barren; there weren't any places he could hunker down and sleep.

It looked like it'd be another all nighter.

Tristan, waiting for some sort of landmark to reveal itself on the horizon, quickly became bored. He began talking to himself quietly to amuse himself as he walked.

"We've been doing a lot of walking lately, haven't we?" he asked himself aloud.

_Yes, I'd have to agree,_ he thought back in an aristocratic accent. _All this travel by foot is simply murder on the feet, wouldn't you say?_

"I do agree," Tristan said with a small smile, mimicking the same accent. "We simply must do something about this. Walking cross-country does not quite fit my fancy."

_Nor mine. Say, do you believe we're going mad?_

"What makes you say that, dear boy?"

_We're talking to ourselves in quite a peculiar tone of voice, wouldn't you say?_

"I'd have to concur, good man, though I do not think it a symptom of insanity. Rather, I assume it to be-"

Tristan froze. Something else was out there. Something big. Something menacing. Something...asleep.

The sun looked ready to set in the sky, granting Adrian a bit of light to survey his surroundings. He wasn't sure where he was, but he had heard the sound. Moving slowly and smoothly, he looked around, trying to pinpoint where the snoring was coming from. He looked straight ahead of him and swallowed nervously.

That black blob thing. It was back.

Adrian could hear the blood pumping through his body as he received a generous dose of adrenaline. He didn't move. Neither did the black thing. The only motion seen throughout the quickly darkening field was the slow motion of air moving in and out of the thing's body.

Adrian would have to go around.

_Does it have ears? Can it hear me?_ he thought as he calmed himself down, trying to think back to his first encounter with it. _Is this even the same one?_

Carefully, with deliberate precision, Adrian inched forward, giving the black thing as wide a berth as he could. He had to remember which direction he was going, too; he'd probably need to keep walking all night to make progress towards Wyvern. Facing what he thought was northwest, he looked to his left.

He nearly shouted in surprise. The blob was still asleep.

Yet Adrian swore on his life that it had somehow gotten impossibly closer. It was looming over him now, no more than five feet away. Adrian finally got his first real look at it.

It was around eleven feet tall, if he had to guess. The black skin seemed to mix and swirl within the creature, making Adrian even more confused as to what matter it was made of. The sides had small round orange flaps circling the creature. Continuing on his way, he took another step.

The grass shifted slightly from his step.

A huge red eye was staring at her.

Alice nearly fainted right on the spot. Trembling violently, she dared not move as the pupil of the eye focused on her. Now she was pretty sure that she wouldn't move even if she had wanted to.

An agonizingly long time passed where neither of them gave any sort of movement to the other. Finally, though, the black thing began to back up. Slowly. As if it didn't want to make Alice angry.

Alice didn't catch on to this little nuance. The only thing she could hear was her heart beating violently somewhere in her body.

Then just like that, the black creature turned tail and fled, leaving Alice standing staggered on the field. She slumped down onto the grass below her.

"...What just happened?" she breathed.

* * *

"Update: We're on our way to Wyvern, I think," Alice wrote quickly. "I woke up staring that blob thing that most of us saw the second night in the face. And...it ran away. I didn't even do anything. But...now I don't know which way to go. I don't know if I'm facing north or west, or whatever. Let's make this exchange quick, so that we can get right back on our way."

"Hold up, it just _ran away_?" Adrian asked incredulously. "What the heck!? That thing looked like it was going to murder me!"

"But it didn't, and we should all be thankful," Daphne finished, ending the topic. "But we need to know which way is north."

"So we should probably just wait for the sun to rise again," Mia suggested.

"No, that won't work," Tristan asserted. "The sky's really cloudy. And if we can't see the moon, we can't see the sun."

"We don't need to," Toby wrote. "When I got out of Wayford, the sun was right behind the mountain. So if we just head towards the mountain, we'll be on the right course."

* * *

Toby closed the journal. In case anyone else came up, that should be good enough instructions for them to follow. He scanned the horizon looking for the mountains, then frowned when he saw it a bit farther back. Did someone go the wrong way? He shook his head.

_Who would? _Toby thought, shaking off the notion. _We're all in this together, right?_

Toby began walking towards the far-off mountain again, completely unaware of Tristan's deception.

And completely unaware of how warranted that deception had been.

* * *

"I hope you know where you're going with this," Chaos said as he read over my shoulder, unimpressed.

I turned around to face him. "That could've been a great end to the chapter, you know. And you just ruined it."

Chaos simply raised an eyebrow. "You only had around one thousand one hundred words. It'd be a pretty short chapter."

Wanting to come up with something to counter that, I left my mouth hanging open as I looked from my friend to the laptop, and back again. Finally, I closed it, admitting he was right. "Okay, fine. But what did you mean by what you said?"

"Do you have any idea what you're going to do up in that mountain?" he asked.

"Uh, ch-yeah!" I said, nodding my head.

"Don't do that."

"Okay."

"Well, if you think you're prepared enough," he brought up his hands and shook his head. "Then go ahead. I just don't want the story...derailing or anything like that."

I narrowed my eyes. "What do you mean by _that?_"

"You kind of...get off track when you're writing," he said quietly, refusing to look me in the eye.

Crossing my arms, I stared at him defiantly. "Oh, yeah? Give me one example."

"The town they were in the first day," he stated immediately. "Why'd you put it in? They can't mention it anymore. The Mayor made them promise."

"I...I, uh..."

Chaos sighed and put his hand on my shoulder. "Look. I know you have the best intentions. You probably did have a plan for that town. But you got overzealous and it got out of hand." He straightened up. "Now. Do you have a plan for what's going to happen up in that mountain?"

It was more of a statement than a question. Probably because he already knew the answer. "...Not really...?"

"Can't say I didn't expect that..." he mumbled. "Here. Move over."

* * *

David, as he walked, felt an unnerving chill down his spine. The mountain was getting closer in front of him. The clouds were clearing away. He knew where he was going.

But something just didn't feel right.

David stopped. The mountain looked only about five minutes away now. Gazing up at the gigantic mound of earth before him, David started to feel afraid.

_It's...so...big..._

The far-off mountains weren't so far-off now. The ground started to slope gently upwards as it went, but by the looks of it, the going wouldn't always be so easy. David could've sworn the tip of the mountain was curving down to sneer at him, challenging him to scale it. The top was white, tipped with snow and ice. This betrayed exactly how large this mountain actually was. There even seemed to be some black smoke coming from the other side.

David wasn't ready for it. He couldn't do it. He didn't care if the others called him a kid or a wimp. This was one task he couldn't follow through on. Tears began to well up in his eyes.

"I can't do it," he whispered. "I got so much...they almost liked me...but they aren't going to-" he stopped, and sniffed. "-they aren't going t like me n-now..."

He could almost hear them talking.

_Seriously? Can't you even freakin' climb a hill? Why are you even here?!_

_We're all _very_ disappointed in you, David._

_Calm down, guys. He's just a little kid. We've been asking too much of him already._

_Maybe he should be on the backburner a bit, y'know? Like, we should repress him or something so he doesn't get hurt. This is a job for older people anyways, right?_

_That's a good idea. It's okay, Davey. We'll handle this, okay?_

_Okay. He can't climb the mountain. I'll do it._

"No!" David's quiet sadness gave way to self-caused fury. "I'm _not a kid!_ I can take care of myself! I'll do it! I'll climb the mountain all by myself! I'll show all of you! You'll see!"

He stood up, staring down the mountain. "I'll show you! You think you're too big for me!?" David screamed as his voice became higher and higher. "I'm gonna climb you! I'm going to get to the other side! I'm going to get to Wyvin _all by myself_ and there's _nothing_ that's gonna stop me! You hear me?! NOTHING!"_  
_

Blinking back hot tears, David yanked the sack up from the ground and threw it over his shoulder. He began running down the path towards the far-off mountains.

_I'll show all of you. I'm not a kid._

_I can take care of myself._

* * *

"Holy crow, man," I breathed. "That's good."

"It was your idea, Cameron," he said, waving off my compliment. "All I did was write it."

"The writing's what I'm praising you for, dude! That's _good!_"

Chaos smiled. "Thanks. You want to take over?"

"No."

His smile disappeared. "Cameron, this is your story."

I gave a short huff. "Fine."

* * *

David was still grumbling under his breath about what the others had said about him as he walked upwards along the slope of the mountain. The air was starting to get a bit nippy, but David was able to block it out. He _had_ to block it out. He couldn't be weak.

The sack was beginning to get heavy. He was tempted to take a drink of water from the canteen, but he restrained himself.

_I don't need it,_ he thought, wincing as his throat cried out in protest. _I don't need it._

The air began to get thinner. Was it? No. Air can't get thinner. It was probably just his imagination. He kept walking, ignoring the growing pain in his chest.

_I'm not weak._

His vision began to blur. There seemed to be something in front of him. David blinked and his vision cleared. Whatever was there was gone. He smiled weakly.

_I don't need help._

The air David breathed began to sting as it passed through his body. That's not normal, is it? David shook his head violently. He couldn't let those thoughts into his brain. He was going to do this.

_I'm going to do this._

The ground changed from a pale green to a pale white. David wasn't exactly sure what this meant, but his feet were getting uncomfortable. He wasn't quite sure what this meant, either.

_I can make it._

David's vision started blurring again. He blinked. It refused to clear. He felt some sort of cold thing pushing him to the left. What was that? It was cold, but when he tried to push it away, there was nothing there. What was that?

_I can do it all by myself._

The peak. Where's the peak? David's breaths were short and shallow. But that's not bad, right? The water started calling his name again. Where's the peak? He could only see white. What is this stuff?

_It's kind of cold._

Left foot. Right foot. Left foot. Right foot. Face. Get back up or they'll hate you. Left foot. Right foot. L...wait. No. Right foot. Face.

_All by...myself..._

David couldn't breathe. It wasn't like his dreams, though. This was different. His vision began to cloud. He started seeing black spots surrounding him, blinking in and out of existence. What are those?

_They'll hate you..._

David closed his eyes.


	15. Bite the Bullet

**Sorry. I don't have the link to Photobucket or whatever because I haven't done the drawings yet. Nightmarish drawings are hard to do!**

**And no. The planet this story takes place in is not Shiver Star. Sorry.**

* * *

**_Window to the Past_**

**_Chapter 15: Bite the Bullet_**

The tall one's doing something. You want to help. You climb to the top next to the tall one. You want to help. The tall one looks at you and walks away. What was she doing?

Water.

Help.

You walk forwards and your legs stop touching ground.

Ouch. Pain. Fire. Pain. Screams. Hands. Lights.

Help.

* * *

David awoke with a thumping pain coursing through his brain. His head was swimming, and his vision was so completely blurred he could only see grey.

But he was warmer than he was outside.

David's heart skipped a beat. He wasn't outside anymore.

"Don't sit up."

Who was that? Why couldn't he see? Maybe if he just rubbed his eyes, he could-

"_Don't_ sit up."

"Who are you?" David asked. Well, David tried to ask. It came out as a hoarse wheezing. Something was wrong with his throat. Why couldn't he speak? What happened to him?

"I want you alive, and that's all that matters."

She...the voice heard him? But how? He had to find out who this was.

"What part of 'don't sit up' do you not understand?"

Whoever this was, she was getting irritated. David decided to obey for the time being. He couldn't really do much otherwise, anyways.

"Can you see clearly yet?" the voice asked.

There was improvement. Instead of solid grey, he could see a glowing white circle in front of him. Everything else was grey. Was that good enough for a yes?

Apparently the voice didn't think so. "Don't move until you can see exactly where you are."

David's head was still pounding painfully. What had happened? He was climbing up the mountain, and then...

"You made a mistake, David."

Shock and fear bunched up in his throat. How did she know his name was David!?

"You couldn't have done that alone. None of you could have. To suppress them like that wasn't very smart."

Was...was she talking about the others? How did she know about _them!?_

"Can you see clearly now?"

David realized he had shut his eyes tight. Opening them again, he squinted at the sudden light flooding his vision. When his eyes adjusted, he tried to look around. Moving his head hurt, and he still couldn't talk, but he could make out blurry shapes.

"That's good enough for now. Look for your sack."

David slowly turned his head to avoid aggravating the migraine he was experiencing. He saw a large green blurry circle. Assuming that was his bag, David went to move. Almost immediately, a familiar jolt of pain shot through him.

"Remember 'don't sit up'? That hasn't changed," the voice reminded him caustically. "Drag yourself over instead."

Blindly, David obeyed. His round body made it difficult, but he was able to grip the ground and pull himself forward. There was definite pain there, but it was a fraction of what he had experienced earlier. His vision got clearer as he reached the sack.

"Find the canteen and drink from it."

Without thinking, David grabbed the mouth of the bag and pulled downwards. The contents spilled all over him, giving him very unpleasant bursts of pain. Straining to change his field of view, he spotted the metallic container to his left side. He grabbed it, unscrewed the lid and poured the water into his mouth.

"G-AAAH!" he gasped through the stream. His speech was restored. Panting, he was about to say something when another warm wave of throbbing wracked his brain. He held the cool metal of the canteen up against it, numbing the soreness temporarily.

"Who...who are you?" he asked, his voice still raspy.

"I'm someone who realizes how important it is to keep you alive," the voice said. "That's the only reason I'm talking to you."

"And where...?"

"Don't try looking; you can't sit up yet. I'm not in this room, anyways. Save your energy. You're going to need it soon."

His mind tried to register everything she was saying to him. "Why...what do I need..."

"You're in deep trouble, David," the voice said solemnly. "Very deep trouble."

* * *

"Cameron, I can't write all three stories! I'm the co-author for _this_ one. I don't even know what the other two are about!" my co-author protested.

I shook my head violently as I stayed in a fetal position on the floor. "I don't know _what_ happened in that hospital, Chaos..." I sputtered. "But she was _not_ supposed to die. I didn't write her dying. But it happened anyways." My eyes connected with his, and judging by his reaction, I didn't look my best. "Why? That fire wasn't supposed to kill her! It wasn't supposed to kill _anyone!_"

"But that's A Bunch of Japanese Letters, Cam," he reminded me. "This isn't Japanese Letters! This is Legend of the Watch!"

Once again, I shook my head in disagreement. "If I screw up Japanese Letters, what makes you think I'm going to do this one right?" I breathed.

Chaos sighed. "Did anything go wrong in No Pokeballs Allowed yet?" he asked, using his signature comforting yet condescending tone.

"N-no..." I said, my voice shaking.

"I've put off Legend of the Watch _and_ a story _I_ wanted to write because I had to write the other two stories for you," Chaos explained tiredly. "I'm only getting to it now because I've finally caught up with your crazy 'chapter-a-day' posting schedule. And if I'm going to be honest," he trailed off for a bit and looked back at the laptop. "I think it's time _you_ start writing _your_ trilogy again."

"B-but...what about..."

"We can't change that," Chaos admitted. "But you've worked yourself out of worse. You do a lot of good stuff when you go on the fly. Just improvise until you get back on track."

Shakily, I got to my feet. Nodding my head, I started seeing his point. "I'm sorry you have to deal with me, Chaos. I'm just acting like a kid."

Chaos gave me an unimpressed smirk. "You _are _a kid, Cam. You're younger than some of your protagonists. Now, _please,_ enough with the mushy stuff, and on with the story."

"Agreed. No more mush."

* * *

"Alright. Try to sit up now."

Slowly David forced himself up. The pain was numbed, and he was able to get through the process this time.

"Okay," David asserted. "What happened, how do you know my name, and how do you know about the others?"

"You decided you didn't need the others' help to climb the mountain, David. You didn't want help. You were very adamant about that. That was not very smart. You made a wall. They can't get through to you now, even if you want them to."

"I..." David stuttered, suddenly beginning to feel dizzy. "I what? D-did I kill them?!"

"No. But they won't be able to help you until the figurative wall you made is taken down."

David quickly stood up, toddling a bit before regaining his balance. "I want to take down the wall! How do I do it?"

"You don't have time to take down the wall, David. You need to get out of here now."

"...Why?"

"NEUROTOXIN STORAGE TANK PRESSURE HAS BEEN COMPROMISED. FACILITY-WIDE NEUROTOXIN PRESSURE AT 0.002% AND RISING."

"That's why."

"...What's neurotoxin?" David asked as fear creeped into his tone.

"If you breathe it in you die."

David let out a small whimper.

"Pick up your bag and leave," the voice commanded.

But David didn't move. He was frozen with fear. He was going to die here. He had failed up on the mountain, and he would fail here, too. He couldn't do it.

"David. You have a better chance of surviving if you try to escape. If you stay here, you are going to die without fail. If you try to find a way out, there's a better chance of you making it out alive. Now pick up your bag and leave."

Trembling, David got to his feet and grabbed his bag. A door was to his left. He stumbled towards it mindlessly.

"We don't have much time, David," the voice reminded him.

"FACILITY-WIDE NEUROTOXIN PRESSURE AT 0.632% AND RISING."

This seemed to wake him up. Breaking into a sprint, David ran out of the room quickly, giving one last look at where he had landed. He skidded to a stop and tried to read the label above the door.

"Uh...what does that say?" he asked the voice.

"Neurotoxin Storage," she answered. "Now keep going."

David agreed and began running up and down the hallways, going through any door that looked right to him.

"FACILITY-WIDE NEUROTOXIN PRESSURE AT 5.204% AND RISING."

"The number's getting bigger," David said worriedly. "That's bad, isn't it?"

"Yes. Running haphazardly into doors won't get you out in time," she said flatly. "Look for exit signs. They should be glowing red."

"Okay," David said, scanning his surroundings for a red glow.

"FACILITY-WIDE NEUROTOXIN PRESSURE REACHING DANGEROUS CONDITION. INITIATING SAFETY MEASURE 399 'ANTI-NEUROTOXIN ATMOSPHERE PURIFICATION SEQUENCE'."

"What does that mean?!" David nearly screamed, following the arrow of an exit sign.

"It's a good thing, David," the voice comforted him. "It means there will be less neurotoxin in the air."

"INSUFFICIENT POWER FOR SAFETY MEASURE 399. DRAWING FROM EMERGENCY RESERVE..."

The lights went out.

"What happened?!" David screamed.

"Stay calm, David," the voice said sternly. "The exit signs still work."

David gulped. His heart was beating so hard he was afraid it might explode. And still he pressed forward through the pitch-black hallways with only the eerie red glow of the exit signs to guide him. David wanted desperately for the voice to encourage him, to tell him that he would make it out fine, but she was unbearably silent.

"SYSTEM MALFUNCTION. AIR CIRCULATION OFFLINE. SAFETY MEASURE 399 'ANTI-NEUROTOXIN ATMOSPHERE PURIFICATION SEQUENCE' FAILED. FACILITY-WIDE NEUROTOXIN PRESSURE AT 10.293% AND RISING."

"What does the new-o-talk-sin do?" David asked, bracing himself against a cold metallic wall as he walked down an especially dark hallway.

"Just follow the exit signs, David," the voice said. "You'll be out of here in time."

"FACILITY-WIDE NEUROTOXIN PRESSURE REACHING CRITICAL CONDITION. INITIATING SAFETY MEASURE 404 'FACILITY-WIDE AIRTIGHT LOCKDOWN' IN FIVE MINUTES. EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY. REPEAT: INITIATING SAFETY MEASURE 404..."

The metallic computer blared its message again, but David was suddenly hit with a wave of unnatural panic.

"Run, David! You have to get out of here now!"

David forced back tears that threatened to blind him even more than the darkness already did. David's mind seemed to collapse on itself, dedicating David's whole body to one task.

Follow the red lights.

David was vaguely aware of the ground flying beneath him faster than it ever had before. His eyes went from red light to red light, directing his body to make quick 90° turns down the hallways.

Suddenly David was thrown downwards as his feet screamed in pain. He had tripped.

"INITIATING SAFETY MEASURE 404 'FACILITY-WIDE AIRTIGHT LOCKDOWN' IN THREE MINUTES THIRTY SECONDS. EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY."

Something was wrong. David's body was tingling...he was finding it hard to breathe. His legs refused to support him, as did that strange voice that had mysteriously disappeared.

His leg twitched. David tried to convince himself that it was a good idea to get up. His head shook violently for half a second. Was that normal?

"INITIATING SAFETY MEASURE 404 'FACILITY WIDE AIRTIGHT LOCKDOWN' IN TWO MINUTES THIRTY SECONDS. EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY."

Pushing himself to his feet, David winced as he shook in his stance. Looking ahead of him, he could see natural light. It was right there!

David's body convulsed, throwing him roughly to the ground. Breathing heavily, David began to drag himself towards the door.

_I can do it._

Left pull. Right pull. Left pull. Right pull.

"...ONE MINUTE THIRTY SECONDS. EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY."

_I can do it. It's right there._

The door was no less that five feet away. Yet David could not get up. He continued dragging himself along the ground in a display of primal determination. He touched the cold metal of the door. The handle was out of his reach. He'd have to stand up and jump.

"...THIRTY SECONDS. EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY."

David braced himself against the frigid door, knowing full well what was on the other side. Crying out in pain, he leaned against the steel. The handle was still out of his reach. He'd need to jump.

"...TWENTY SECONDS. EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY."

_I can do it._

David tried to jump. His feet refused to obey, still spasming from earlier.

"...TEN SECONDS TO LOCKDOWN. NINE..."

_I can't do it._

"Please!" he begged. "Please, I can't do it! Someone, please help me! Anyone! I don't want to die!"

"...SEVEN. SIX. FIVE..."

"Somebody help me!"

"...THREE. TWO. ONE."

It was so cold...

THUNK.


	16. The Real Problem

**For some of you, this is the first (or only) book in the series you've read. But for others, this is the second or third. Those of you in this group are familiar with my special patented tactic for stalling. It's called...the bonus chapter. *ominous thunder***

* * *

**_Window to the Past_**

**_BONUS CHAPTER: The Real Problem_**

There. The chapter was up. I leaned back from my laptop, sighing. That chapter was physically draining. It was strange. "Man...that was..." I couldn't finish the sentence so I just let it go with a sigh.

"What's up?" Chaos asked, looking up from a notepad he had been jotting down ideas on.

I turned to look at him. "I'm just a bit disappointed with my latest chapter, that's all."

"What, the neurotoxin one?" Chaos asked. "Why'd you be disappointed in that one?"

"Well...there's some inaccuracies," I said quietly. Receiving an expectant look from Chaos, I continued. "The computer voice, for one thing. Some of the things it said seem off to me."

Another expectant look.

I sighed. "Like...it announced a sixth of a percent increase in facility-wide neurotoxin pressure. I don't really think a difference that small would be announced every time it happens."

"Well, that depends," Chaos reasoned. "How potent is the neurotoxin? At what ratio of neurotoxin to air would it kill you? If it was low, an announcement every sixth isn't that bad."

Giving a small nod, I reluctantly agreed. "Yeah, but there's that phrase I used, too. 'Facility-wide neurotoxin pressure'. I feel like there's a better way to write that," I said, giving the chapter another look. "Computers have a very specific vocabulary when they're talking. And I don't think 'facility-wide neurotoxin pressure' is part of it. I just feel like I'm going to get flack from programmers, or whatever."

"So what are you trying to say?" Chaos asked.

"I'm just not happy with that chapter, that's all," I shrugged. After a bit of silence, I noticed the notepad in front of Chaos. "What're you doing there?"

Chaos gave his notepad a look. "Ideas. My story's been on hiatus for a while, so I want to finish it off."

I gave another small nod. "I guess I haven't really helped with that, huh?"

"Well, yes, writing all three for that amount of time did nothing to bring it out of its stasis," said Chaos.

Another long silence. I turned back to my laptop, and read through 'Bite the Bullet' again, looking for any sort of typos or plot holes that needed thinking through. After reading the last 'THUNK' of the chapter, I heard a voice behind me.

"You're terrible, you know that?"

Giving a short yelp, I jumped up from my seat and turned around to face whoever was behind me. Honestly, I shouldn't have been surprised to see Chaos looking at the screen behind me. My fear was slowly replaced by annoyance. "Uh...wh-what?"

Unfortunately, I'm a bit less lyrical than usual when I'm recovering from a heart attack.

"You're terrible. Those cliffhangers are just cruel."

After making sure my heart wasn't going to implode, I smiled. "Well, I've developed a penchant for those things. They're fun to write with, not to read."

"So why do you use them?" Chaos asked.

"I just told you!" I looked back at him, my smile growing wider. "They're fun to write with!"

"But not to read," he finished, taking off his cap and brushing it a bit, before placing it back on his head. "But why do you use them if you know the misery it causes the audience?"

"Schadenfreude," I explained. "Taking joy from others' pain. That, and they keep the reader engaged."

"Mmm," Chaos said dismissively. "So...did David get out?"

I shook my head. "Tsk, tsk, tsk. You should know better than to ask something like that. You'll have to wait, like everyone else."

"What, I don't get any sort of 'Author's Brother Early Access'?" he asked.

My smile faded. I knew what he meant. But...what he said irked me.

Chaos must've noticed. "Sorry, that just came out."

I nodded. "I know, it's alright. But...try to be more careful with what you say, okay?"

"It'll work out, Cameron," Chaos comforted, trying to cheer me up. "You know how the stories end, right? They end well, don't they?"

"Yeah, they do," I admitted. "I just miss my family and stuff. Sometimes I just want to...rush it, you know? Just get the story over with so I can just go home."

Oops.

"Cameron..." Chaos said lowly.

"But I won't!" I said quickly, trying to amend my mistake. "I'm not going to rush it! I promise!"

Chaos let out a breath of air. "It's a bit of a sensitive topic, Cameron. I overreacted a bit."

"...I'm sorry, Chaos."

"You have nothing to say sorry to," he returned. "You only made the same mistake I did."

Another long silence. This one, however, seemed a lot more awkward. I knew I'd made a mistake, but I didn't know _why_.

"Chaos?"

"Mmm," he mumbled through the writing of his notepad, signalling me to go on.

"Why, exactly, is that a sensitive topic?"

I heard the sound of a writing pencil stop.

_Oh, no._

"Cameron," he said in a low, measured tone. "You say you want the story to end because you can go home. Right?"

"I...I guess."

"That's your end. That's where the story ends for you. You go back to Earth and you live the rest of your life the way a real person like you would. Same with the three main characters of your story."

"What do you mean?" I asked carefully, unsure of where this was headed.

"Your three main characters. Cece, Coran, and Kylie. You found out that they're real, didn't you?" Chaos asked, not looking up from his desk. "Firsthand, in Canon Fodder. When-"

"I know!" I yelled, interrupting him. Realizing how loud I'd just sounded, I quieted down. "Sorry."

"The stories end with them going home, too," Chaos continued, giving no sign he had heard my apology. "That's their happily ever after. That's your happily ever after. But what about the characters of your story? What happens to them once you finish? Once you stop writing?"

I was silent. I'd never really thought about this before.

"Those stories are the only place they exist. Even Luigi and Kolorado, canon characters. The things you've written never happened to the real ones. So the laws of fiction invent a clone. They don't exist anywhere else. Not even in other fanfictions, because those take the same laws that canon characters do. So what happens, Cameron, to these characters once their world ceases to develop?"

Again, I didn't say a word. I was beginning to get an idea of what he was getting at.

"What separates real from fiction is that unless it's written or seen, nothing in fiction happens," Chaos said, bitterness creeping into his voice as he stood up from his desk. "On Earth, you can say goodbye to someone for a week, and when you next see them they have a broken arm. That doesn't happen in fiction. If someone gets a broken arm, there's a purpose. Somewhere down the line, that broken arm is going to help or hinder them beyond something like not being able to write with your dominant hand for a few months.

"In any sort of story, nothing happens unless it's written about. The world has no history until the reader knows about it. The character has no concrete figure until it's explained. Relationships don't develop, people don't die or give birth, fights don't break out, nobody cooks or eats or sleeps, nothing happens unless the _author thinks it should._

"So I ask you, Cameron. In a world so heavily dependant on the creator...what happens when the creator looks away? What happens when he stops creating? When he stops developing, writing, talking?"

At this point, I couldn't even look at Chaos anymore. I felt tears well up in my eyes as I realized what he was saying.

"It stops. Everything stops. You and your mains can live happily ever after. But the characters don't have a happily ever after to live."

"What about epilogues, though?" I ask desparately. "What about when the author says how their lives turned out?"

Chaos shook his head. "What about the secondary characters not included in the epilogue? What about the main character's kids? Their kids? What happens after the epilogue takes place?...It's inevitable, Cameron. And you get to escape it because you're _real_."

"But...you're an author!" I protest. "You're real, too, aren't you?"

"I'm not real," he spat. "Your brother is. I'm simply his persona. When he stops writing, when he abandons this account, I share the same fate as everyone else. I'll be frozen, forgotten. But you, Cameron. Your life goes on. It only stops when you do. And I don't think you realize how lucky you are to have that privilege."

_He's right,_ I thought as I buried my head in my hands. _I don't._

There was a very long silence. Neither of us moved for what felt like a decade.

"I'm sorry, Cameron," Chaos finally broke the taciturnity. "I went a bit overboard."

"No, no, I get it," I said. My voice came out muffled through the sleeves of my hoodie. "I kind of feel like I deserved that, too."

"...Did you write about this? About you being in the story?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said, lifting my head up. "But I called myself Multikirby."

"But you aren't Multikirby," Chaos finished. "I knew Multikirby, and you aren't him."

"Wait...Multikirby was a persona?" I asked, turning around to face him.

Chaos nodded. "Yes. He was yours, wasn't he?"

"He was," I confirmed. "But...if you're here...then where's Multikirby now?"

Chaos blinked. "You don't know? He disappeared the moment you came here. I haven't seen him since."

I rested my head in my hands, wiping a stray tear from my eye. "Did he just...cease to exist?"

"I certainly hope not," Chaos stated.

Giving a small nod to show my agreement, I turned back to the laptop to start the next chapter. As I typed, I listened to Chaos mumbling to himself.

"You want me to what? No, I can't do that! You're insane!"

I smiled. It was common practice of both of us to speak the dialogue while we were writing. I looked down at my hands, reflecting on what Chaos had said. If these worlds really ended once the story was finished...

I made up my mind. These stories weren't going to end anytime soon.

* * *

**No, bonus chapters aren't patented. You can use them if you want to, I guess.**


	17. Welcome to Wyvern

**I feel like it's been a while since I've uploaded a chapter. But...I dunno. For those of you reading this, after it's complete YOU LUCKY DOGS YOU DON'T KNOW HOW HARD THESE PEOPLE HAVE IT. YOU TAKE ALL THESE CHAPTERS FOR GRANTED. WHAT IF I JUST STOPPED RIGHT HERE? HOW WOULD YOU LIKE THAT?**

**But of course I won't. This story needs to be finished. So on with the show, I suppose.**

* * *

_**Window to the Past**_

_**Chapter 17: Welcome to Wyvern**_

The lights were in your eyes...they were so bright...Black things are above you. They're talking, but you can't hear them very well. Your eyes are stinging for some reason, and you can't feel anything from your neck down. There's something soft on the back of your head. What is that? What happened? One of the black things is crying. They ran away.

Don't go...

You close your eyes as you feel the pain returning to your neck. A prick. Your breathing slows.

* * *

"I suppose I was right."

Alice was thrusted into the world of the living with only that girl's voice as an introduction. She tried to force her eyes open, but closed them immediately as they were confronted by an extremely harsh set of colours. "H-huh...?"

"You're not dead."

"What?"

"You're not dead."

Alice frowned. "N-no, I know what you...said, but why would I be dead?"

"...You're _not_ dead," the girl asserted, her voice slowly taking on the patronizing tone of an adult to a four-year-old.

"No! I mean...what would make you say that I'm not dead?"

There was a long silence. "The fact...that you...aren't dead."

Alice groaned. "Neither are you."

There was another unbearably long silence. "...Oh, you mean - sorry. Do you not remember?"

Alice tried again to force her eyes open. The harshness of her surroundings once again assaulted her, but she kept it up, and after a while, was finally able to see where she was located.

It was a small wooden cabin. That's what the roof told her. There was a window to her right that she couldn't see out of; it was covered in frost. Pushing herself up into a sitting position, she was able to take a look at the rest of the room. The walls and floor clearly juxtaposed the rustic look of the roof. The walls looked wooden enough, yet Alice could barely see them through all the steel and chrome medical equipment that lined them. The floor was a ceramic tile that looked quite a bit colder than the cot that Alice was currently stationed on. A smallish white puffball was watching her warily from the other side of the room. Alice assumed this was the one who had spoken to her.

It was at this moment that Alice registered what the girl had said to her. "Uh...what have I been doing for the past twenty-four hours or so?"

"I don't know about the last twenty-four hours," the white puffball shrugged as best she could. "But about...five hours ago I found you passed out in front of the Facility-Wide. My name's Liz."

"Uh...Cece," Alice said after a bit of hesitation. "What's Facility-Wide? Is that a city?"

Liz blinked. "You...don't know what Facility-Wide is?" she asked, before lowering her voice and looking at the ground. "I suppose it's a nickname, but she should still be able to tell...especially if she's been _in _there..."

Alice felt uncomfortable. What had the others been up to while she'd been out? She frowned. That time had been strange. As if she were being forced underwater by someone's hand. She didn't like that feeling. She looked around her, searching for her green bag. But she couldn't find it. "Uh...do you know where my bag is?"

"You mean your Tac Sack?" Liz asked. "Ash confiscated it to make sure it didn't have anything dangerous or valuable in it. You should go see him if you want it back." She then looked out the window, as if in thought. "Actually, you should go see him anyways. He wants to talk to you about what you did."

"Oh, no..." Alice groaned. "What did I do?"

"Again, Ash'll be the one to talk to you about that," Liz asserted. "But for now...how do your feet feel?"

"My...feet?" Alice asked, confused. She wiggled them around experimentally, since she couldn't really see them. "I can feel them, if that's what you mean."

"Okay, good. And you can move them, too," Liz said, nodding. "So you're in better shape than you were earlier. It's a wonder you got out of Facility-Wide alive..."

Alice, growing more and more concerned the more Liz said, experimentally slipped out of bed. After a bit of steadying herself, she noted she could at least stand up. That was good.

"You might want to get to Ash quick once you're out the door, too. It's gotten pretty chilly here the past few days. Though," she turned towards the door and opened it, letting a harsh blast of cold wind inside. "I'd assume you'd know all about that, Ms. Cece."

This statement only left Alice even more confused about where she was and what _they'd_ done. "Uh...where can I find Ash?"

Liz pointed out the door. "He's on the other end of the street, in the Sheriff's office."

_Crap, I messed with the sheriff!_ Alice berated herself, cringing. _You guys would be so dead if you weren't me!_

"Alright, thanks!" Alice said awkwardly, putting on a facade of happiness. She stepped out the door and felt it close behind her.

Liz was right. It was cold outside. There was no snow, but the town was covered in a thin frame of frost. Alice shivered as she felt tiny flakes of snow rest on her for but a moment before melting before freezing again. Alice decided it'd be a good idea to get out of the cold before this strange snowfall froze her solid. Stepping down from the wooden deck, Alice's feet touched the cold hard dirt below her, sending a shiver through her body. A cold breeze made its way across Alice's body, seemingly chilling Alice's heart as it went. She looked back at the door to Liz's place and whimpered. This place wasn't like anywhere she'd ever been before. In the few fleeting moments she spent in Wayford, writing in the diary, she had felt as if the entire city was oppressing her as if nobody alive wanted her there. But here...here, she was just cold.

Taking a deep breath, she ran forward onto the street, flinching from the unbearably frozen ground below her. Small buildings flanked her on either side, sporting signs that seemed cracked and faded, a far cry from the bright colourful invitations they must've once been.

"Sheriff," Alice whispered under her breath, looking for said word on one of the abraded signs. "Why'd you guys have to mess with the sheriff...?"

As she made her way down the avenue, she felt a prickling sensation on the back of her neck, as if someone were watching her. Turning around quickly, she saw the fleeting face of Liz peeking out her door before it retreated, earning another light _click_ from the door. Alice turned back and frowned. The feeling was still there. Was she being watched?

Alice stopped in front of the building that read 'Sheriff' in front of it. Swallowing the fear that had lodged itself in her throat, Alice stepped up and knocked on the door. She heard footsteps coming from inside, and a few seconds later, the click of a doorknob. The door swung open revealing a red puffball about Alice's height.

He didn't even wait for Alice to introduce herself. "Yer the one that Liz found up on Mt. Leftalon?"

"Uh, yeah. My name's Cece," Alice said, trying to keep a sweet overtone as to not betray how much she wanted to faint on the spot.

"Yeah? Well, then, Cece," he said, chuckling to himself. "Yer a damn fool."

"...What?"

* * *

"Liz and Ash, hm?" Chaos said as he looked over my shoulder. "Those names sound familiar."

"They're from Legend of the Watch. The old one," I said. "I decided to bring a few of them back."

"Last I checked, Ash wasn't the sheriff," Chaos said flatly.

I looked back at the laptop, then to Chaos again. "He isn't the sheriff."

Chaos stared at me again, then nodded. "Ah, okay."

He was a bit different. His eyes had bags under them as if he had lost sleep. Which was weird since we didn't really need sleep at all. His gingerish hair stuck out under his flat cap in an ironically chaotic manner that seemed uncharacteristic to him.

"Uh...are you alright, Chaos?" I asked, eyeing his unevenly buttoned cardigan.

"Yeah, Multi, I'm fine."

I frowned. "I'm not Multikirby, Chaos."

He blinked as if realizing his mistake. "Right. Sorry. I know Multikirby, and you aren't him."

I gave a slow nod before turning back to the laptop.

* * *

Ash handed Alice a mug of hot water. Simply holding it in her hands seemed to warm her up immensely.

"So...are you the sheriff, Ash?" she asked, holding the mug close to herself to wean off of the radiating heat.

Ash shook his head. "Nope. Not yet, anyways. I'm fillin' in fer him until the residents decide who's best fer the job."

"What happened to the old shepherd?" Alice asked.

This earned her an odd stare from Ash. "Sheriff. He died way up there on Mt. Leftalon in an avalanche accident a few days ago. Sad, but I ain't gonna lie, I had my eye on his position fer quite a while. That's why I volunteered t' fill in as th' unofficial sheriff. I figure if I do my job right now, they'll figure me the right one for the job," Ash looked down at his cup of water. Then he brought his head back up and stared at Alice with a piercing glare. "But we're not here to talk about me. Now," he said, and with a little difficulty due to the shape of his body, leaned forward on his chair. "What the hell were you doin' up on Mt. Leftalon, in front of Facility-Wide, no less!?"

_Oh, boy. This is it,_ Alice thought with a grimace. _"Sorry there, sir, but I have no idea what I've done for the past who-knows-how-long! Would you mind filling me in on how many innocent lives I've snuffed out?"_

"I don't know," Alice said weakly. She knew this wouldn't be enough. Ash's expression seemed to confirm the notion. "I...have a problem with my head. There's...seven or so people in it, including me, and we switch reins sometimes. And I don't know what the others do when they're in front. Please don't think I'm crazy."

Ash's expression didn't change. "Sister, if that's a lie, yer crazy. If that's th' truth, yer crazy. I don't think you not bein' crazy's a notion worth considerin' right this minute."

Alice sighed in defeat. "Look, can you just tell me what I did?"

Ash sat back in his chair. "Well, all I know is Liz was up in th' mountain fer whatever reason. She saw a hole in th' ground that went down t' Facility-Wide. She ignored it fer a while, an' then she started hearin' voices comin' from inside. An' then she found you out in th' snow in front of one o' the airlock doors. She brought you here, an' came t' see me an' drop off yer bag."

Alice rested against the back of the chair. _Okay. That's not too bad. At least I'm alive._

"I'm surprised yer even around t' look me in th' eye, sister. If th' gas didn't kill you, those goshdarn _safety measures_ would! An' yet you escape with but a twitchin' of yer legs!" Ash shook his head and laughed lightly. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you was some kind o' sorcerer."

"Uh..." Alice felt a little awkward, as it wasn't her that had accomplished the feat Ash said she had. "What's Facility-Wide?"

"'S the name we gave that strange factory up there on Mt. Leftalon," Ash explained. "No one quite knows what it's there for, but er'ry so often we hear that damn robotic voice talkin' about them damn safety measures." He took a sip of his water. "Usually means some poor soul's trapped there. Only a few've gotten out before, yerself included."

"I see," Alice said softly, looking down into her water. "So...did you finish searching my bag?"

"Yer Tac Sack?" he asked, slipping off of the chair. "Yep. I got it back here. Though the contents...a bit strange." Ash looked back at Alice's horrified face. "Nothin' illegal, mind you, but from what you're haulin' 'round, someone might get th' idea that yer some sort o' traveler."

"Well, I kind of am," Alice said. "I've been wandering around this continent looking for some place to stay for as long as I can remember."

"Judgin' from recent events, sister, that might not be sayin' too much - Hold on a cherry-pickin' minute!" Ash's voice raised in tone quickly, catching Alice off guard.

"What? What'd I do?!"

"Are you sayin' you've never been to Wyvern before?"

_Wyvern._

Alice blanched. "I'm...I'm in Wyvern?"

"Y' don't even know _that!?_" Ash threw his hands up in defeat. "What're you gonna say next, that you've got an extra face hidden on the back o' yer body!? Sakes alive, yer just like Vi!"

_Vi._

If Alice could've blanched further, she probably would've. "You know...Vi?"

Ash, who was facing away from her now, slumped a bit in his stance. "An' now yer gonna tell me you know Vi."

"We met for a while, yeah," Alice confirmed. "In Niccola Forest."

"Nicco - _who the hell are you!?_" Ash nearly screamed. _  
_

The funny thing was it didn't sound like an angry scream. It sounded more as if he was running out of rational explanations as to who she was. Or something like that.

"Yer tryin' t' tell me that _yer_ the one that helped Vi beat up Tac?! Th' one with all those personalities bouncin' 'round in her...an'..." he looked at the door leading to what must've been storage. Finally, he turned to face Alice with an expression so vague it scared her.

"I hardly know whether to kiss you or slap you. Heh," Ash said, smiling as he shook his head in bewilderment, "in older days I might've done both. I'm gonna go get yer bag. Wait here."

Ash opened the storage door and closed it behind him. Alice was left standing there in the sheriff's office, absolutely nonplussed about what happened.

_Ring ring ring..._

Alice, without even realizing what she was doing, looked around wildly for any sort of phone. She found it on a desk. Tearing through the clutter in the room to get it, she seized the receiver and pressed it up to the side of her face.

"I can't help feeling like you're trying to prove something to me."

Alice's eyes began to water as her father's voice filled her head. "Dad..."

"You're doing some pretty dangerous things. Or, that's what your mother tells me. Look, I know you want to prove yourself to be responsible, but what you're doing isn't the way to go about it. Because what I see is you being hurt. And I don't like seeing you hurt. I can't watch you all day. But I want you to promise me to stay safe, okay? Come back home safe."

"Okay," Alice whispered into the receiver, knowing full well he couldn't hear her. "I will."

Though instead of a flood of memories flooding back, Alice only got a picture. She was sitting beside her mother and father on a bed, reading with them. Over the book, she could see a picture frame on a dresser. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't see who was in it. Her father cleared his throat and continued reading.

Alice was forcibly sucked back into reality, namely, the sheriff's office. She heard the door to storage open and quickly wiped the tears from her eyes.

"Here's yer bag, Cece," Ash said, thrusting the bag forward into Alice. She stumbled backward a bit, but steadied herself. "Everything's in there, you'll find. I didn't take nothin'."

"Okay," Alice said shakily, silently cursing herself for not clearing up her voice before she spoke. Avoiding Ash's gaze, she dug through the bag and found the journal and pen. "Is there some place I can go to write in this?"

"There's a library down th' street, but it's low on books," Ash suggested. "Still, it'll suit yer needs fine."

"Thanks," Alice said and stepped out the door. She wasn't sure what the plan was now. They'd gotten to Wyvern. What was she supposed to do? Was her family here?

Alice pushed the door to the library open, and sat down at a nearby table, paying no attention to anyone else who might've been in the building. She once again felt that unsettling prickling sensation of someone watching her, but she ignored it.

* * *

"Okay, huge update, guys: WE'RE IN WYVERN. One of us got into this factory they called Facility-Wide, and we got out and then almost died or something. Then a girl (another puffball!) called Liz came and brought us to her house. I woke up, said my name was Cece (that's the name we're going by, right?), and we talked for a bit. She told me to go see Ash, and I did, and I ended up telling him about the rest of you. And guess what? HE KNOWS VI. I don't know how, but it sounded like Vi told them about us, too. He was all like 'I don't know whether I should kiss you or slap you'. And he has the _cutest _cowboy accent! But then! WE GOT A CALL FROM DAD. But I guess you all know about that, right? We all get the call from him for some reason, right? ~Alice"

"That's...a lot of stuff that happened," Toby marveled. "So Liz and Ash are the new faces? What do they look like?"

"I went up the moutnan and into Facltie-Wide by myself," David wrote as the page became spotted with tears. "I...I almost died...and it was so scary! There was this girl talking to me, and she knew my name! She knew about you guys, and she said I killed you! She said I kept you guys down so you couldn't help me and it was so dark and i couldn't breath and someone was yelling at me with all these numbers and i almost DIED!"

"..._You_ did that!?" Adrian asked angrily. "I felt like I was drowning! And I've had enough drowning to last me a lifetime."_  
_

"We're in Wyvern..." Tristan wrote slowly. "...And we almost died...Didn't that Sue person say she hated puffballs?"

"David, wait," Alice changed the subject. "You were the one in Facility-Wide? You were the one who got out of there? Everyone I've talked to is treating it like some sort of superhero thing!"

"I am really resisting the urge to just go out there on the street and find out as much as I can about this place because I don't know how you guys would feel about it," Mia hinted, pressing the pen so hard it almost ripped through the page.

"I'm not for the idea of going out and socializing is a very good idea right now," Daphne advised.

"And why the heck not, Little Miss Holier-Than-Thou?" Adrian wrote caustically.

"Cool it, Hothead," Alice berated. "But why were we even coming here again? What was the point?"

"Actually, yeah. Why _did_ we come here?" Toby asked. "That...uh, that is, does anyone remember? It was Glenn that told us about Wyvern, right?"

"Yes, I remember," Daphne confirmed. "He said that if he was going to guess, we would have originated from Wyvern. So if we wanted our memory back, we should've came here. Which we did."

"Glenn was the man on the boat, right?" Tristan asked. "I didn't like him."

"You don't like anybody," Mia pointed out.

"So if we came here to remember everything, we should go out and socilze with everyone," David wrote. "If were from here, they'd know us"

"Again, I'm not sure that's the best idea," Daphne countered.

"Why not?" Mia asked. "If the entire point of coming here was to figure out who we were and why we woke up on that field, why would we not go out and talk to everybody? I mean, if we aren't going to do that, then why are we even here?"

"I don't know, guys," Toby said carefully. "I mean, what if we ask around and find out we're some mass murderer or something? Or worse? I'm kind of scared to find out what we are."

"I think we should just leave as soon as possible," Tristan suggested. "I don't like this place, and the less time we spend in it

* * *

"...Excuse me?" a soft male voice jolted Tristan out of his conversation. Nearly jumping out of his chair, he turned to face whoever had talked to him. A green puffball was looking at him with concern. "We're closing up for the night, sir. You looked a bit zoned out. Are you okay?"

Tristan snatched his diary off the table, and without saying a word walked briskly out the library door into the cold night air, leaving the green puffball staring after him, confused.

Keeping his head low in case any other late night walkers felt talkative, Tristan scanned the alleyways and crannies for a suitable place to sleep for the night. Choosing a small corner with a cardboard box near the end of the street as his resting place, he pulled up the box over his body in an effort to stay hidden from the street. Evidently, it didn't work too well.

"Cece? What are you doing in the alley?"

Tristan pulled the box down to see who had spoken to him. Considering she knew his 'name', this white puffball must be Liz.

_I don't know her. Bad. She knows where I'm sleeping for the night. Bad. Apparently, she saved my life. Good. She saved my life, _apparently._ Bad. She seems very interested in what I'm doing. Bad? Five bad things. One good thing. Stay defensive, Tristan._

Tristan stared at her but said nothing. Liz returned his stare, and for the first time in a long time, Tristan felt he had met his match. For what felt like hours, the two of them kept eye contact, waiting for the other to relent.

Finally, to his amazement, Tristan cracked. "What?"

"Why are you in the alley?" she asked, a (quite annoying) triumphant undertone seeping into her voice.

"Sleeping."

"You mean freezing," she returned flatly. "I used quite a bit of expensive medical procedures on you, Cece. I don't want to find them gone to waste by seeing your frozen carcass in the alley beside the clinic. I'd also like to think you value your life a bit more than it looks like you do."

"What are you saying?" Tristan said carefully.

Liz donned an unimpressed expression. "I'll make this simple. That alley'll be your deathbed. If you don't like the sound of that, I suggest you find a warmer place to sleep. I have an extra bed."

Another stare-off. Tristan couldn't decide whether she was truly concerned for him or not.

_I think she's right. If I sleep here, I'm going to die. If I sleep with her I might die._

With that thread of logic, Tristan reluctantly got up after throwing the box off of him. Liz gave him a small smile and disappeared into the clinic.

Tristan followed her through the door, and saw her pointing at a small room. "You're sleeping in here. I'm going to lock the doors. I'm coming back here at six-thirty in the morning. You're on your own for breakfast."

"Wait, you're locking the doors?" Tristan's heart jumped into his throat as his mind began imagining all the grisly interpretations of what locked doors could mean.

"I have a home. This is a clinic. Goodnight, Cece." With that, she closed the door to the room. Another door closed further away, and a _click_ accompanied it.

Tristan, with nothing better to do, climbed up onto the bed and laid down, a lump in his throat. He closed his eyes, trying to lull himself to sleep as his mind invented over a hundred ways he could be brutally murdered in the six hours he would be asleep.

* * *

I sat back from the laptop and smiled. "We're firing on all cylinders now."

"Hmm?" Chaos looked up from his notepad, which had quite a few dark scribbles on it.

"Nothing," I said, my mood dampened a bit by his appearance.

* * *

**I'm pretty sure Wyvern's an actual word. Hey, here's an idea! You guys should tell me what's still up in the air about this story! What questions you still have. Who knows? If I see a common question, I might answer it a bit earlier than I would otherwise. That's the beauty of semi-improv writing.**


	18. At This Moment

**So Wyvern is an actual thing. It's a dragon-type thing. I'm pretty sure I knew that Wyvern was a thing when Cece was still on the _Daybreak_, but I must have forgotten since. The More You Know.**

* * *

_**Window to the Past**_

_**Chapter 18: At This Moment**_

Tristan laid on the hospital bed, staring at the ceiling. He dared not rest his eyes; sleep would take him in an instant. The darkness lurking outside the window served as a stark reminder of what could be waiting outside for him to drift off. Sleep was out of the question. So Tristan once again found himself quite bored.

"I seem to be doing this a lot," he said to himself. "Making executive decisions."

_Yes, that does prove quite true,_ Tristan replied back through his thoughts. _You diverted the route away from that mountain._

Tristan sighed. "They ended up scaling it anyways. And from the sounds of it..." He looked at the bedside table, which held the journal. "...we almost died."

_I wonder what the outcome could have been if they went your way instead?_

"I'm not sure; It'd be different, to state the obvious. Better or worse, I'm not sure. But it can't get worse than almost dying."

_And now you've decided for the rest of them not to sleep,_ he said to himself.

"I don't know about this place." Tristan tried to justify his actions. "In my opinion these people are acting _way_ too friendly to someone they just met. Especially the white one."

_She gave you a place to stay the same day she...apparently...found you collapsed in front of a well-known dangerous area,_ he replied. _I see your point._

"But she locked the doors from the outside," Tristan recalled. "But then again, she put me in a room with a window. I can't tell what her intent is!"

Tristan's voice decided it was a good idea to change the subject. _How do you think the others are taking your executive decisions?_

"I don't think they know," Tristan said absently. "I don't think they know it's me, anyway. Except maybe Mia. The way she introduced herself, it makes me feel like she considers the journal as a secondary communication method."

_As opposed to being omnipotent,_ his thoughts finished. _Spying on our actions firsthand._

"Why is she so special?" Tristan said bitterly, before catching himself. He smiled weakly. "Listen to me. I'm jealous of myself."

_Well, not quite yourself,_ his thoughts corrected. _But closer than it would be if you two were separate people._

"Which makes me wonder about the ethics of this disorder," Tristan sighed. "I really want to know how it works."

_Liz seems to be a doctor,_ his thoughts suggested. _Perhaps she could help._

"Perhaps," Tristan agreed. He stole another glance out the window. It was still dark, much to his annoyance. Giving another glance to the journal, Tristan quickly berated himself for being tempted. If he were to switch, there was no telling what the others would do. Considering how tired he felt right now, they'd probably fall asleep on the spot. He couldn't risk it. Tristan turned away from the journal and pulled the covers up over his entire body.

"It's cold in here," Tristan whispered to himself, his words becoming slurred. Realizing this, he shot up to his feet on the bed, and bashed himself on the headboard. Staggering back from the front of the bed, wincing a bit from the numbing pain spreading from the front of his face to the rest of his face.

"Bad idea," he muttered. _Still,_ he recognized grudgingly, _I'm awake now._

Tristan sat back down on the bed as a sudden wave of guilt washed over him.

"Do I really have the authority to make these kinds of choices," he asked. This time, though, no natural response came.

_What do you think?_ he asked himself, before frowning. That was manufactured and inorganic. That wasn't him. That was just the part of his brain responsible for conscious thought.

Tristan felt alone.

_Hours later..._

"Fifteen...sixteen...seventeen...eighteen...nineteen..." Tristan mumbled to himself, sliding under the bed. Finally, he pulled himself out from under the bed and sighed. "Nineteen plus twenty-seven is forty-six. There are forty-six corners in this room," he stated proudly, before realizing what he just did. Then he became mildly depressed. "Well...I guess it's time to count the straight edges-"

He stopped. The journal. He had to. He couldn't ignore it the entire night. It's too late for them to sleep anyway; it's nearly light out. Maybe just a bit of conversation won't hurt.

* * *

"Hello, all. In case you're wondering, we're in the clinic of one Ms. Liz (I don't know her last name or if she has one, but I plan to find out). She locked the door from the outside so nothing can come in. I woke up early from my sleep and quickly became bored. So now, I'm writing." Tristan wrote.

"Man, for having a good night's sleep, I feel pretty tired," Mia replied. "By the way, Tristan. You didn't count the corners _inside _the cabinets. That'll add at least sixteen more corners to the room. You've gotta consider everything when you're doing something like that."

"Wait, the guy was counting corners?" Adrian asked, trying to hold back a laugh. "How bored _were_ you? It sounds desperate."

"May we talk about more important things than how many corners this room has?" Daphne asked the rest of them. "For instance: what are we doing here?"

"Daph, we've been over this," Alice reminded her. "We're going to find out who our family is and whether they're here."

"How are we going to do that, though?" Toby asked. "There are a lot of puffballs here, I think, and any one of them could be family."

"So we should just go out there and talk to everyone we see, then!" Mia suggested.

"Bad idea," Tristan wrote. "Very _very_ bad idea."

"If that's why we're here, though, than why not?" David asked. "How are we gonna find out who our mom and dad are if we don't ask?"

"We might try being a mite more subtle," Daphne said. "I don't think going around grilling people about whether we're their long-lost child is a very smart approach."

"These people aren't the sharpest, Miss Priss, but I'm giving them enough credit that they wouldn't walk up to some random dude and say 'are you my mommy'," Adrian berated.

"Maybe we could ask Ash," Alice proposed. "He seemed to know about the people living in Wyvern."

"Do you just want to see him again?" Mia replied slyly. "And I quote 'And he has the _cutest _cowboy accent!' Somebody's in loooove!"

"Is an accent really grounds to fall in love with someone? It seems ridiculous," Toby stated.

"Can we get back on track, please?" Tristan asked. "If we're going to prance around town talking to perfect strangers, we need at least some kind of method."

"Hey, an accent is a perfectly legitimate reason to fall in love with someone!" Alice protested. "Half of love is the voice or something like that. But as for a method, I still stand by my point of going to Ash. Either Ash or Liz. But I say Ash because I don't really get the 'social' vibe from Liz."

"Didn't you say he new Vi? Mabye she's here," wrote David.

"I...completely forgot about that," Mia stated. "Although to be fair there was a lot that you wrote in that update and it's hard to keep track of it all. I guess I could've flipped back to it, but the need never really came up until now."

"So we should try to find Vi, then?" Daphne asked for confirmation.

"Her name's Fey," Toby corrected. "She tries to say Fey but her hearing makes it Vi instead."

"Does it even matter? If it looks the same when she reads your lips, why even say anything different?" Adrian pointed out.

"Well, it's light out," Mia observed, looking out the window. "I'm going to go talk to Alice's future husband about Fey."

* * *

Mia closed the journal, smirking at her latest little quip. She would never stop bothering Alice about this. The smile disappeared from her face when she remembered the exact words she wrote.

'Alice's future husband'.

_I'm Alice, _Mia realized. _...Shoot._

Shrugging it off, Mia walked over to the door of the room and opened it. Walking through, she was about to close the door before remembering her bag. Mia rushed back into the room and seized the sack by the neck, slinging it over the side of her body. It didn't really hold, but it felt more natural than simply dragging it on the ground. Once again she opened the door and this time, she exited through it.

A matter of moments later, Mia was shivering from the sudden drop in temperature. She was only on the doorstep and yet she felt colder than she had ever felt before. Mia decided it'd be a good idea to go back inside and warm up so that

_click_

Whipping around, Mia yanked at the doorknob. Liz had locked it from the outside; Mia couldn't get in. She was trapped outside in the morning chill.

It was at this moment Mia realized she had no idea where Ash lived. It was also at this moment she realized that visiting Fey was near pointless.

It was also also at this moment that Mia received a copious amount of bruises on her forehead from banging her face against the clinic door.

* * *

What felt like an eternity later, Liz finally came to the clinic, only to find Mia doing some sort of rigorous exercise to keep from freezing. Mia met her questioning eyes and stopped, panting.

"I...I...forgot...that..." Mia forced out between breaths, "...that...the door...locks...behind you..."

"How long have you been out here?" Liz asked, not sure how to take the spectacle in front of her.

Mia shook her head. "No...idea...Where does-" she paused to cough, then continued. "Where does Ash live?"

"Over there, in the residential area," Liz answered, jerking her head behind her.

"I-I could've guessed...that..." Mia forced out, still tired from her select methods of keeping warm.

"Alright, I'll be more specific," Liz relented. "Conequus Boulevard, house number 782." She turned around and pointed up a street. "Go up that street, and turn left third chance you get. That's Conequus."

"Alright thanks bye!" Mia forced out quickly, dashing off into the morning, eager to get out of the bitter cold.

_One...two...three!_ Mia counted, zipping down the third street. Her eyes leaped from house to house, ignoring every single detail barring the three-digit numbers used to classify each one.

"Seven seven three...seven eight four...seven nine two..." Mia mumbled to herself as she sprinted along the sidewalk. Noticing a bit late she had passed her target number, Mia pivoted on the frozen sidewalk and darted off in the other direction.

Or she would've. If the sidewalk wasn't frozen. And she wasn't in such a rush.

Instead, the ice snatched away the friction she had established with the sidewalk, smashing her head against the cement and sending her pinwheeling down the rough yet icy sidewalk, earning her a sizable number of cuts.

Gingerly pushing himself up, Adrian staggered. His head was swimming and his vision was fuzzy. He quickly noted the slippery ground below him and tried futilely to regain his balance. This resulted in another smaller slip, landing him on his back. Letting out a groan, Adrian lay there for quite a long time, debating whether it was worth it to try getting up again. Feeling the thin layer of ice melt under his body heat, Adrian decided he'd rather not be soaked in literal ice-cold water, and pushed himself to his feet.

Adrian spotted the sack quite a ways away from him. He started walking towards it before getting a jarring reminder of the unstable ground he was on. Flailing his stubs to regain balance proved fruitless as Adrian fell once again to the ground he was becoming a bit too acquainted with.

"You'd think they'd salt this stupid thing," he grumbled, pushing himself up. Adrian (carefully) made his way towards his bag, before spreading the neck and retrieving the journal.

"We're going to Ash's, huh?" Adrain remarked as he read Mia's entry. "That's the guy Alice likes..." A mischievous grin spread across Adrian's face.

This was going to be fun.

It was at this moment Adrian realized he had no idea where Ash lived. It was also at this moment Adrian realized he had a respectable amount of cuts all over his body.

It was also also at this moment a cold morning breeze decided to come along and oxidize the wounds in a particularly stinging way.

Shivering from the combination of the cold and the smarting, Adrian tried to deduce in which direction Ash's house might be. The bag had slid forward down the street, and assuming Mia had slipped while walking in the direction of Ash's house...

Adrian walked further down the street, the bag dragging on the frozen sidewalk behind him. He found it strange that although the cement itself was frozen, no other wintry signs revealed themselves save the frost settled on the grass. Adrian also compared these small, cozy streets to the ones he had seen in Wayford; they had been much wider, and strange metal things had been speeding up and down the road. These smaller roads seemed safer, somehow.

And yet Adrian couldn't shake the feeling someone was watching him. Throwing a quick look behind him, he saw no one. Nothing but the row of houses behind him. Now that he got a good look at them, a lot of these houses seemed as if nobody had been living in them for what must have been a long time. Many were in a state of disrepair, or worse. It was obvious which ones held residents; these houses stood in pristine condition, in stark contrast to the shambles on either side of them.

It was at this moment Adrian realized he had no way of telling in which house Ash lived. This earned another annoyed groan.

"Ah, excuse me, sir?" a voice called from the other side of the street. Adrian turned to face whoever had spoken, and was met with a dark green puffball on the other side of the narrow street.

"What?" Adrian was not in the best of moods, so he forwent what little formalities he would have usually implemented. This seemed to put off the puffball, but he seemed to shake it off and went on.

"Are you looking for something, sir?" he asked. "If you are, I'd be glad to assist."

Adrian simply stared at him. How had he known? Could he read minds? What was-

"Say...aren't you the one who had been writing in a booklet last night at the library?" he recalled. "You left in quite a hurry."

"That, uh..." Adrian stuttered, guessing he was talking about one of the others. "That might've been me. I've got a...uh...bad memory."

"Ah, I see." Without Adrian realizing it, the dark green puffball had crossed the street and stood no more than two feet away from him. He quickly closed the gap. "My name is Linden, sir. Pleasure to meet you, sir." He stuck out his stub.

Adrian stared at it in confusion. A voice told him to grab it, and he did so. Linden gave it one light shake, then let go. He was still staring at Linden's stub when he heard Linden clear his throat. It was at this moment Adrian realized Linden was waiting for his name.

"Ah...Adrian. My name's Adrian," he said, oddly unsure of himself.

Linden nodded. "Well met, sir. Now, as to my original question. Is there anything I might be able to help you with? If I may say so, you seemed a tad lost."

"Yeah, actually," Adrian said, his brain lagging more and more as it tried to keep up with what Linden was saying. _Why are you doing this? _What_ are you even doing?! _"You know where a bloke named Ash lives? I'm looking for him."

"Ash, sir?" Linden said, his eyes widening. "You've passed it, sir, assuming you've been walking in this direction for some time. And-"

Adrian inadvertently interrupted Linden's advice with yet another annoyed groan.

After a slight pause, Linden continued. "His house number is...er...forgive me, Adrian, sir. I can't quite recall it," he bowed his head apologetically. "I believe it was seven...seven...something. It should be the only refurbished house in its area."

"Alright, thanks," Adrian said quickly, eager to get away from this strange person to get a chance to process what just went on. "Bye!"

And without giving him a chance to return the sentiment, Adrian (still carefully) ran off back down Conequus Boulevard. He could've sworn Linden had said something along the lines of 'there he goes again', but he didn't want to think about it.

When he felt like he was adequately far away from Linden, Adrian allowed himself to slow to a walk. _Okay,_ he thought. _Who was that dude and why the schmuck did I get so weirded out by him!? __"Well met, sir." "Pleasure to meet you, sir." WHY do I feel like that's so WEIRD?_

It was almost as if Linden was speaking in a language Adrian could barely comprehend, or if he was two sentences ahead of what Adrian heard. What had happened back there? Adrain shook his head, trying to push the memory out of his mind. It hurt just thinking about it.

* * *

"Hey, Chaos. I introduced Linden, Chaos," I said, turning back to my co-author, who had his head buried in his hands on his desk. He hadn't moved for a long time.

"He's a blend of two characters from the alpha phase, Chaos," I tried, waiting for him to acknowledge what I was saying. "He's a mix of Trek and-"

I stopped. He didn't move. "Chaos? Are you okay?"

No sound.

Sighing sadly, I stopped trying and turned back to my laptop.

* * *

"Seven seven something?" Adrian repeated, counting down the decrepit house numbers nailed onto the sides of the buildings. He was currently in the seven nineties, and the number was falling. This gave Adrian a bit of time to think about what he was going to do once he got to Ash's house.

_This was to figure out if we had family, here, right? _he recalled. _So I'm just going to waltz in there and ask him who I'm related to._

Adrian smiled wryly. "Heya, Sheriff. Mind telling me if any local families have lost a child about my age lately? Maybe you could introduce me to them and tell them I'm their long-lost son!"

"Long-lost son, huh? T' be honest, it sounds a mite far-fetched," a voice behind Adrian said in an amused tone. Adrian, caught completely off guard, reflexively jumped up and began to deliver a kick to the head of whoever was behind him.

_WHACK_

Toby's brain tried to comprehend what had just occurred. Forcing his eyes open, he felt a sharp pain on his side and a red puffball standing over him with a very cross expression.

"I'm thinkin' that was a bit uncalled for, wouldn't y'say-" he stated angrily, before pausing. "Er...Cece?"

"Cece's the name for the body," Toby said quietly, wincing as he tried to get up. "My name's Toby. And...are you Ash?"

A cold wind blew past the pair.

It was at this moment Toby realized he was covered in cuts. It was also at this moment these cuts began to sting for the second time that day.

"What the heck are you talking about?" Ash said in a loud confused voice.

Toby's eyes widened. Had he said too much? "Um...Alice told us she told you...sorry, forget what I said."

Ash's expression changed from one of confusion to one of recognition. "Oh, yer that orange one from last night! Though...I thought you were a lass, there. Apologies, an' all that."

Toby shook his head. "Alice is a girl. I'm a guy. At least..." He looked down at his body. "I'm pretty sure I am. I don't know what gender the actual body is."

"You change gender with yer brains?" Ash shook his head in amazement. "You jes' keep gettin' weirder and weirder...So. Mind explainin' t' me why you almost gave my head a beatin'?"

"...What?"

"You jumped up and tried to kick me."

"Ah!" Toby exclaimed, frightened. "Sorry! That wasn't me! That was...uh...I want to say Adrian, but-"

"Adrian's another one of you?" Ash clarified.

"Yeah. He's...a ruffian," Toby said slowly, searching for the right words. "What did he do?"

"He was talkin' about findin' his real family, somethin' about me goin' up t' them and sayin' 'here's yer long-lost son!'" Ash said. "Then I said somethin' behind him and next thing I knew there was a foot headed towards my face."

"Oh," Toby said, now feeling awkward. He wasn't sure where to go from here. "Sorry about that. Really. If I'd have come up earlier, I might have been able to stop him..."

"Don't go blamin' yerself, Toby," Ash said. "He's a different person, ain't he?...Ain't he?"

"That's...one way to put it," Toby said slowly. "But, um...about why I came here. Do you know if I belong to some family here?"

"I'll tell you as soon as I get inside," Ash said, looking around. "I can barely concentrate in all this cold."

"That sounds like a good idea," Toby said with a weak smile.

* * *

Toby wasn't sure what to make of it. Other than the front door, there were no entrances to any other rooms in his house. The kitchen, the living room, the bedroom...they all seemed to be in one area. Small articles and objects were scattered around the floor, but not enough to give a messy vibe. Ash's house was small. _No,_ Toby frowned. _That's not the right word. Cozy. Cozy, not small._ _Don't say small._

"Small place," Toby remarked.

_Dang it._

"'S only as small as I feel it needs t' be," Ash said, looking around. "Y' have to consider th' fact that I'm jobless right now. If I had a ritzy house, I reckon it wouldn't be too easy t' keep it above water. B'sides, I think it's cozy."

_Double dang it._

"So, uh," Toby tried changing the subject to avoid becoming any more awkward than he already was. "About family..."

"Right," Ash nodded. Without warning, he got up and headed to a cupboard. "Y'want some cocoa? I figure you spent quite some time out there in th' cold."

Toby nodded uncertainly. "Uh...sure."

As Ash made the drinks, he spoke. Since he was speaking to the wall in front of him instead of facing Toby, hearing him was slightly more difficult.

"Wyvern isn't a very big place, population-wise. Most of us know each other by name," he explained. "So I'd know iff'n someone's kid went missin'. And, unfortunately, that ain't the case."

Toby's heart fell. His family wasn't here. The entire journey had been pointless.

"But what I find strange, Toby," Ash said as he turned around with two mugs in each stub. "I don't recognize you. At all. Not even fleetin' glances of you walkin' down th' street. And I can't help feelin' yer not from here." Ash shrugged and sipped his cocoa, giving Toby the other one. Ash went and sat down on a small chair in what looked like the living room.

It was at this moment Toby realized he hadn't taken a step into the house from the front door. It was also at this moment that I realized I've been doing a lot of this sort of thing. It was also also at this moment when I changed the chapter title.

* * *

I looked back at Chaos expectantly. He was still in the same position; head buried in his hands. My heart sank. He had been like this for a while, and all I really wanted was to just have someone to talk to.

"Chaos, I broke the fourth wall. I broke the fourth wall, Chaos," I said. This usually set him off, giving me warnings of doing it too much.

No movement at all. Not even a small grunt to signal he heard me.

I felt like crying. But I didn't.

I didn't.

* * *

"But that's not possible," Ash said as he watched Toby sit on a stool across from him. "Every puffball that's ever existed on this here planet has had somethin' t' do with Wyvern, one way or another. So that begs the question: If yer not from here, where th' heck _are_ you from?"

"I wish I could tell you," Toby said sadly. "But I just woke up on a field near-"

He stopped himself. He couldn't mention that town.

"-near Niccola Forest."

"You hesitated."

_DANG IT!_

"Was this field east of the forest?" Ash asked.

Toby nodded carefully. "Yeah."

"You didn't happen to see any towns or anythin' near there, didja?"

Toby couldn't breathe.

* * *

**"Is an accent really grounds to fall in love with someone? It seems ridiculous," said Benedict's Cumber-patch Kids and David's Tenants and Matt's Smiths and Daniel's Radical Cliffhangers and George's Bushes and you get the idea.  
**

**Oh, Linden. There is no explaining your attributes. Well, there is, but I'm too lazy to do it right now.**


	19. Little Boys, Little Girls

**This took longer than I wanted it to.**

* * *

_**Window to the Past**_

_**Chapter 12: Little Boys, Little Girls**_

Toby couldn't breathe.

_How can he know that? Does he mean _that_ town? The one where people died? Has he been there before? What does that mean if he's been there before? Has he killed people?! What does that mean?! Is he going to-_

David fell to the floor, gasping for air. Once his lungs were adequately filled with oxygen, he looked up apologetically to the baffled face looking down at him.

Between coughs, he tried to force out some sort of explanation. "I don't think-" David paused to cough. The air he had gulped down had probably gone down the wrong pipe. "I don't think they were breathing..."

This did nothing to help Ash's confused expression.

"The person before me," David clarified. "They weren't breathing. It happens pretty often, actually. My name's David."

Again, Ash said nothing.

"Didn't, uh..." David was a bit taken aback by Ash's reaction. "Didn't Alice tell you? She told me she told you..."

Suddenly, Ash's face cleared up. "Oh, this is yer brain thing actin' up again, innit?" he asked.

David frowned. "It's not 'actin' up'. This is normal-" David paused. "Well, at least for me. Uh...what were we talking about before I switched?"

"I asked you if you'd seen a town near Niccola Forest," Ash reminded.

"A town?" David asked, perplexed. He looked up as if trying to remember, then shook his head. "Nope. Sorry."

"Really?" Ash's tone was doubtful.

David shrugged. "I didn't really see much of Niccola Fields, or whatever it's called. I, uh...surfaced right before we met Fey for the first time. The journal didn't mention anything about a town, so I don't think there was one. When I looked around, all I saw was fields."

"David," Ash's tone grew more serious. "If you were in that town, I need you to tell me."

"I don't remember any town," David reaffirmed, shaking his head. "I only remember-"

"Were you asked by someone not to tell?"

This caught David off guard. He only took a few moments to recover from the shock, then replied. "Look. I didn't see any towns. And none of the others mentioned a town either. If there was a town, I don't think we saw it."

Ash sighed, looking a bit annoyed. "David, if you were told not to tell anybody, it's okay. You can tell me."

"If I was told not to tell anybody," David countered indignantly, "why would you not be 'anyone'?"

"Because I was told not to tell anybody, too," Ash replied.

David's anger faltered, and he fell silent.

"That town," Ash continued. "The town where someone dies every night and every day. I was there, kid. At least, I think I was." Ash let out a mirthless laugh. "It's been such a long time I've started wonderin' whether I'd made the whole thing up."

"You..." David wasn't sure whether to keep up the façade or not. He decided to continue playing clueless. "What are you talking about? People die?"

Ash nodded solemnly. "A long time ago, when I was younger, I left Wyvern. I wanted t' find my future and all that. I ended up near Niccola Forest. I was tired and hungry, so when I saw that town I jumped at the prospect of food and sleep. I slept in an alley that first night. The next day, I went along with all these other people I didn't know to the city plaza. There, this man told us that the Mafia had struck again. And then he flopped a dead guy onto a chair.

"The next few days were a whirlwind of dyin' people and yellin' about whodunnit. A man named Colin decided that he was gonna help me out a bit. He told me how things worked; showed me the ropes. He...told me what all the roles were. Doctor, Mafia, Strongman...Sheriff." Ash seemed a lot older than he did a few minutes ago. He refused to look David in the eye. "I trusted Colin. And he trusted me. And then...

"He tried to kill me."

David, who didn't even realize he had been leaning forward, fell over. He quickly got back up and responded. "What!?"

Ash simply nodded. "Colin was part of the Mafia. He was one of the few people who were killin' people every night. If a Doctor hadn't come by, I'd've been done for. But...me and Colin didn't speak t' each other anymore. Though," he stopped and let out another humorless chuckle. "That's t' be expected, innit? You aren't going to talk to someone who just tried to kill you, right?...The Mafia won. They outnumbered us three to two. Liz and I - a different Liz, not the doctor - were the only innocents left. And...I escaped. I tried to. The Mayor caught me at the edge of the town as I was trying to leave...but all he said was not to tell anybody. And then I left."

David was silent. He felt like he should feel sad for Ash, because of what happened with Colin, but all he felt was confusion over whether to come clean or not. "You broke your promise," he said uncertainly. "To the Mayor. You told him you'd never tell anybody, but you told me."

"Son, you're the first person I've ever told. And I only did that because I was convinced you'd been there, too. But I suppose I could've been-"

"I was there," David said finally.

"What?"

"I was at that town," he repeated. David recounted what happened at the town to Ash. The paranoid lady, sleeping in the alley, the meeting, the near-death experience, and what the Mayor had said.

"You went through all this first hand?" Ash asked his voice sounding neither impressed nor condescending.

David shook his head no. "I read a lot of the stuff from the journal. The only thing I did was talk to the Mayor."

"So you reminded him of a little girl, huh?" Ash looked back at the kitchen as if he was wondering whether he should get something else to eat.

David nodded. "Do you know what he was talking about?"

"No," Ash shook his head. "I wasn't there a mite longer than I needed to be. I feared for my life - though I reckon you figure what that's like, eh, kid?"

"Why do you do that...?" David said with a slight scowl on his face.

"Do what?"

Deciding it wasn't worth it, David shook his head. "It's nothing..."

This sentence brought an awkward silence between the two, a stalemate made by a lack of subjects for either to talk about. This left Ash to get up from his chair to acquire something to snack on, which in turn left David to inspect the house around him. He hadn't gotten a very good look since the conversation started, and Ash's hunger pangs left a good opportunity.

The room was cold and dark, lit only by the windows on the outside walls. David realized the entire house was only one or two rooms wide. There was heat coming from behind him. His curiosity piqued, David leaned over the back of his splintered wooden chair, careful not to tip his low center of balance. He saw a small fireplace crackling comfortably behind him. David guessed that this might be the only source of heat in the entire house. This guess was reinforced by the fact that there was a cozy bed right next to the fireplace. Small objects were strewn on the floor in a seemingly random order, though they were few and far between enough to avoid giving off the vibe of a hoarder. The ceilings soared high above him, and yet they seemed restricted by the narrow dimensions of the walls. David could hear the whispered whistling of the frigid wind drifting by outside the ice-laced windows. Despite the warmth radiating behind him, David shivered at the thought of being outside. A sort of plastic smell came from the kitchen though David couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was. He could remember smelling something similar in Facility-Wide...melted plastic, maybe? Shivering again, David gave in to his desires and quietly scooted the chair closer to the fire. He turned around, and for the first time, noticed a small red hat and whip hanging above the mantel.

"What're these?" he asked absently, not expecting any sort of answer.

Ash turned around to face whatever David had been talking about. "That? That's my Whip Ability. Equipment given to me by the pink legend 'imself."

"Oh," David said flatly. "I don't know what that means."

"You don't-" Ash sputtered, before continuing under his breath. "How much _does_ this kid know, anyhow?" Walking up to the fireplace, Ash removed the hat and whip, holding them in each stub. "If you wear this hat and hold this whip at the same time, y' get somethin' called the Whip Ability. D'you know what an Ability is, at least?"_  
_

David simply shook his head no, earning a tired sigh from Ash.

"Aw, it's seven in the mornin'...this ain't no time for tutorials...Y'know what? I've done enough talkin' to last me the whole week. Go ask Liz if yer interested about what Abilities are. I haven't even eaten breakfast yet."

"O-okay," David said, just barely picking up on the subtle hint to leave. "Well, um...thanks for your help...?"

Ash laughed again. "I don't really think I helped you much there, son. You came here askin' about yer family. I can't say I helped you a ton."

"It's...it's okay," David said, thinking otherwise. He picked up his bag and journal, and headed out the door into the cold street. The door shut softly behind him before he realized he hadn't said goodbye, leaving the meeting on a rather sour note.

_Well, that might've just ruined Alice's chances,_ David thought with a small smirk. This smirk was swept off his face with another cold gust of wind, revealing the cuts that Mia and Adrian had so generously donated. He wasn't exactly sure what to do now. Maybe he should go talk to Liz about those 'Abilities' things. Or maybe he should update his journal first.

_But where's Liz? And who _is_ Liz anyways? Man, having these memories being separate sucks._

"Ah, hello, Adrian, sir!"

_Adrian?_ David thought, confused. He turned around to face whoever was speaking, and saw a dark green puffball on the other side of the street. _Oh, Adrian. He's probably talked to this guy before._

"Uh...hi!" David said, feeling more than a bit awkward. "How are you?"

"I'm content, sir! Thank you for asking, sir!" the puffball replied.

_Wait, when did he get so close to me? _David thought, taking a step backward. "Um..."

"Are you feeling well, sir?" he asked. "Excuse me for saying so, but you seem out of sorts, sir."

"Just, uh..." David stuttered unsure of what to say. "Yeah, actually. I'm feeling sort of sick. Do you know where Liz is?"

"Liz?" he repeated quizzically. "You want to go see Liz? She isn't much of a doctor for common illnesses..."

"Really? What does she do?" David asked.

"Surgery, sir. Operations and the like."

"Uh...oh. Okay," David said quietly. Suddenly this 'Liz' character didn't sound so nice. "Who's the doctor, then?"

The dark green puffball smiled. "That would be me, sir. Or...I'm the closest thing to a doctor Wyvern has, barring Liz. Would you like me to help you, sir?"

"No, no. I'm good," David said carefully.

The puffball gave him a confused look. "But you said you were sick not a few moments ago, sir. Are you sure?"

"Yeah," David said quietly. Why did he even say he was sick? He was trapped in a lie. "I'm sure. But...I need a place to write."

"You're a writer, Adrian, sir?" he asked. "That's excellent! But...weren't you in the library just last night, sir? Do you not know the way?"

"I, uh...forget."

"Well then, I'll lead you there, if you'll follow me."

* * *

I stared at the blinking cursor on the laptop screen. I didn't even bother to look back. He'd be in that position on the desk, with his head in his hands. Maybe he'd be mumbling something.

"...Chaos?"

"...What?"

Instantly I turned back around. Chaos was looking at me from his desk, acting as he had from day one. I gawked at his...normalness. He stared at me for a while, then repeated his question. "...What?"

"You're not weird anymore."

"...What?"

"You're talking. You don't have your head in your hands. You aren't mumbling stuff."

"Oh, that," Chaos said, nodding slowly. "I was feeling sick. But I'm better now."

"...Sick?" I echoed dumbly.

"But I'm better now," Chaos repeated, before turning back to his desk to write in his notebook. "Ah...Multikirby-"

"I'm Cameron," I said.

He turned to me. "Yes, I know. You aren't Multikirby. But...Cameron. When I was writing for you during Canon Fodder, did you ever think I was going to make a mistake?"

"No. No, never. That's why I asked you to do it," I said. "Why?"

Chaos continued as if he didn't hear me. "And do you still think I have anything to do with bringing you here?"

This time I didn't come up with an answer right away. He'd struck a chord.

When I was twelve, I decided it'd be a good idea to write a collection of stories on Fanfiction. They were terrible and as full of cliches as Kinders are full of Surprises. But I thought they were good. I carried through until the end. They took three years. I finished the last story when I was fifteen. As soon as I submitted the last chapter...I came here. I was...warped or something...to this white place with only two tables and a laptop. And the strange thing was I recognized it. This was the place I'd made for Multikirby, my self-insert. And yes. I know. Self-insertion. I was twelve, okay? But the funny thing is I think that's part of why I came here.

I saw Chaos in the first few seconds of being here. He was the co-author and friend I'd made for Multikirby, and he mirrored my brother in real life. Chaos was his persona, and Multikirby was mine. And...when I saw Chaos in front of me, I didn't know what to think. I was so confused...and I yelled at him. I thought he brought me here. But now I'm not so sure.

I had to fill the role of Multikirby. In those stories (and in this one, I guess) Multikirby was me. He was me, sucked into the story. And he went back home when the story ended. So I figured if I wrote the stories the way he did, I'd go home in the end. And so I wrote. Of course, I'm fifteen now, so I had three years more writing experience than I had when I started. So I changed the stories. I made them more interesting. And I got more friendly with Chaos.

But I never said sorry.

"No, Chaos," I said quietly. "I don't think this was your fault."

Chaos nodded slightly, then went back to writing.

I did, too.

* * *

"We're in Linden's libarry now," David wrote. "Before I do the update thing can someone tell me why I have cuts and brooses all over my body?"

"That was me," Adrian confessed. "Those dang icy sidewalks are a XXXXX. And you met that Linden dude too? He's _weird._ Don't talk to him too long, he messes with your head or something."

"Adrian I swear you'd better stop swearing in front of David," Alice reprimanded him, angrily crossing out the taboo word.

"I had something to do with that, too," Mia added. "I kind of left Liz's place early in the morning and I didn't know the door locked behind you when you went outside. It was so cold out there. I was doing all these jumps and stuff just to stay warm. Liz talked to me and I rushed off to see Ash. I kind of forgot that icy stuff is slippery and I slipped and fell and then Adrian took control. I dunno, we kind of switch at crisis points or something, don't we?"

"I switched in after Adrian tried to kick Ash in the face," Toby stated. "I mean, I don't blame you. I don't know what the circumstances were about why you tried to kick him, but I'm sure that you were justified. But he ended up hitting me back. And then we went inside to talk. And then...he asked about the Mafia Town and I freaked out. I switched out, too."

"You people get excited too easily," Tristan quipped.

"He has a point. You all ought to be more careful when you're in control," Daphne wrote. "There are cuts and bruises, as David mentioned, and the rest of us have to deal with your mistakes."

"Shut _up_! _I _was the dude who got them, okay?" Adrian retaliated angrily. "I felt the pain, too, okay?! You're just complaining because _you_ aren't the one who got 'em! If you were, I'd bet my life that we wouldn't hear a single word from you about it!"

"Um...Im gonna update now, OK?" David wrote. "So...I think I switched in after Toby, and Ash was talking about the mafia town. I told him I never heard of it before, and he ended up saying he's been there too. Aparenttly that's why he wanted to be Sherriff or something...? This guy named Colin tried to murder him after becoming his freind because he was Mafia. And then I just told him that we were there too since the Mayor told him not to tell anybody either. And then we talked for a bit more and I left. I met with Linden on the other side of the street (he called me Adrian) and he told me that Liz isn't a doctor. She's a sirjen. Doesnnt that mean she cuts people open and stuff? He told me he was the closest thing Wivern had to a doctor, baring Liz."

"You talked with Ash?" Daphne asked. "You didn't stumble over your words, did you, David? How is the relationship with Ash? Are you and he still friends, or did you develop some animosity? And what of this Linden? How are you on terms with him? Did you say anything that might offend him? If so, I might be able to mend any sort of rift you could have created."

"**SHUT THE HECK UP****!**" David scrawled so heavily it ripped the page on multiple points. "**I'M NOT A LITTLE KID!** I'm as old as all of you are! Yes, I suck at spelling. Yes, I don't have as good a vocabullarie as you do! But I'm **not helpless!** And I don't **care** if I'm ripping the page! Why do you think I went up on those mountains anyway?! I wanted to show you guys I can take care of myself! I can do everthing you can because we have the same body. But NOOOO. All I hear is don't say that in front of David! Oh, don't do that, David, well take care of it! No, David, don't bother! Wait, David, you did what we were trying to do? You didnt screw up, did you? Oh, David, wow, good job, you **ATE A ****SANDWICH. HAVE A PRIZE.**

**"I'M. NOT. A. BABY. I CAN TAKE CARE OF MYSELF.****"**

"David, that was highly uncalled for," Daphne scolded.

"Oh my GOD, Daph, listen to yourself!" Mia returned. "Listen to _David!_ He's angry because he's being treated like a little kid! And you just did it again! Do you even take into account what anybody but you wants?!"

Alice stared down at the page, tears streaming from her eyes. These tears made small damp circles around where she wrote. "I'm sorry, David...I didn't know you felt like that. I'll...try to be better - Crap, I'm crying, that's going to leave streaks..."

"I think _that_ was highly uncalled for, Daphne," Tristan wrote absently.

"I wasn't trying to be rude, I was simply stating my opinion," Daphne defended herself. "He ripped the page. He's welcome to tell us how he thinks we're treating him, but a tantrum is _not_ the way to go about it."

"Daphne, that was kind of rude..." Toby wrote. "David feels like we're babying him. And I can't help but think that you're more concerned about the page being ripped than David's problem. I mean, I don't think you're a mean person, but you're being...kind of a..." Toby trailed off, unable to think of a good word.

"XXXXX." Adrian wrote simply.

"I'm doing this for _me_ now," Alice replied, crossing out the word again. "I don't like reading swears. But seriously, Daphne. That was really rude. He's trying to tell us something that's bothering him, and you're brushing it aside."

"Do you just not care?" David asked caustically. "This isn't _you__'re_ body, Daphne. We're sharing it. You're not better than the rest of us."

"THANK YOU!" Adrian wrote, drawing a starburst shape around the words. "Somebody said it! Get the shmeck off your high horse!"

"...I'm not on a high horse."

"You kind of are," Tristan countered.

"You act like some sort of third party," Mia stated. "You're pretending we're all little kids on the playground squabbling over something, and you're the wise person who comes over with a billowing cape of wiseness and a serene wise expression and waving her stubs around all wise-like and you say 'now, now, don't fight, tsk, tsk'. Well, news flash, Snow White, you're on our level! So stop acting all high and mighty, or stop talking!"

"I think you're trying to help," Toby said, choosing his words carefully. "But the way you put things is kind of condescending."

"...Well. If that's how you all feel, I won't bother you anymore. Goodbye."

"See, there you go again. Being all dramatic to

* * *

Adrian stopped dead in his tracks. Something was missing. It felt like there was a hole inside him, as if something had been removed

Oh, God in Heaven what the heck did they do.

* * *

"That wasn't very smart, was it?" Mabel wrote.


	20. Be Careful Who You Trust

**Since this is filler to keep the chapter name centered...Why can you never tell a joke about an emotional teenager? Nobody understands them. Mood ruined.**

* * *

_**Chapter 20**_

_**Be Careful Who You Trust**_

"There we go! Finished!" I exclaimed, sitting back from the laptop. Chaos turned to me from his desk.

Chaos turned to me from his desk. "What did you do?"

I spun around to face him. "I finished the Bonus Chapter that reveals the truth about Cece. It's ready to be posted."

"You aren't going to post it, though, are you?" Chaos asked.

I scoffed. "Of course not! I wanted it done in advance so that I'd have a good idea of how to work up to it." I turned back to the laptop, looking over the chapter again. "If I posted it now it'd be a huge spoiler."

"So why are you talking about it now?"

"What do you mean?"

Chaos looked up absently. "Aren't most of our conversations recorded in the chapters?"

I was barely listening as I scanned the Bonus Chapter for typos. "What's your point?"

"Wouldn't this conversation be recorded on Chapter 20?"

I sat up straight. Backing out of the Doc Manager, I went to Chapter 20 that I had in progress. Sure enough, the text cursor was ticking away, recording my thoughts.

"Sure enough, the text cursor was ticking away, recording my thoughts," I read, mashing the Backspace button on the keyboard. "And I can't even delete any of it."

"As usual," Chaos called as he went back to his work.

I scowled at the screen, willing as hard as I could to get the text cursor to stop moving. "You know what bothers me the most about this?" I said without looking away from the blinking line.

"Mmm?"

"If this is somebody writing, they have the gall to write from my perspective, in first person," I said sourly. "Some weird dude out there is pretending to be me and it's creeping me out."

"Then start writing Chapter 20," Chaos advised. "These narrative things stop once the chapter itself keeps going, right?"

* * *

"Who are you?! What did you do with Daphne?!" Adrian wrote angrily.

"I did nothing, as per usual," Mabel replied calmly. "To avoid being bombarded by a slew of questions asking about what my motives are, I'm going to attempt to answer as many as I can before you get the chance to ask them.

"My name is Mabel. I am the eighth and final personality contained within the body you seven - well, six - have taken to calling Cece. Like you, I have been here since the beginning. But unlike you, I decided that having eight people fighting over control of a singular body was a disaster waiting to happen. So I thought I would do my part to lessen the impact, and I simply stood back as the rest of you sorted yourselves out. I have only done two things of consequence. I accidentally drank whiskey on the _Daybreak_, and I helped keep David calm as he escaped Facility-Wide. I have been forced forward other times as well, but nothing of importance happened during those times. The most important thing to remember is that I am not against you.

"As for what happened with Daphne...I did not do anything. It was the six of you that caused this. But to tell you what happened, you have to understand something. What we have here with eight people in one body is not normal, as you might have gathered. We suffer from two mental disorders. The first is a very severe case of retrograde amnesia. I say severe because in normal cases of retrograde amnesia, one forgets only a certain period of time, and most often, they regain the memories after a certain amount of time has passed. This is not the case for us. Not only does it seem to be permanent, but we have forgotten our past lives. We have forgotten our family, our home, even our species.

"Some of you might have been ready to ask an angry question at the last point. To circumvent the inevitable query, I'll explain what I mean. A while ago, some of you were wondering how you knew what things like 'hands' or 'necks' were. You, of course, had seen these before, in humans. And yet, they had never told you the names of these body parts. So how did you know that they were called 'hands'? We certainly don't have any. Though it seems farfetched, I have concluded that we must have been a different species before becoming a puffball, one that does have hands and a neck. This explanation, though out of the blue and seemingly irrational, is the only explanation I readily have.

"But I digress. The second mental disorder we have is the reason I am writing in this book in the first place. It is called Dissociative Identity Disorder, or more commonly, Multiple Personality Disorder. Though its status as a legitimate disorder is disputed, I'm quite sure we have it, so its medical standing doesn't matter. Don't ask me why I know all of this, because I won't be able to answer you. But anyway. DID is a coping mechanism, which means that the brain created this to help cope with the previously mentioned trauma. We are a result of that, which means that our only purpose is to help cope with said trauma. Or it would be, under normal circumstances.

"Retrograde amnesia and DID are very severe disorders on their own. But when they're paired up, bad things happen. For example, none of us know _which _one of us needs protecting. Who is the original? We simply don't know. The fact that this body has no obvious way to tell whether it's a boy or a girl deepens this mystery. So we have defaulted to the sole purpose of prolonging the life and health of what you have taken to calling 'Cece', the body. If I were to boil down everything we've done, our main objective is to keep our vessel alive. Say what you will about Daphne, but she tried as hard as the rest of us to keep the heart beating. And you told her she failed.

"Imagine that. You are made for literally one purpose, and are put next to others who share that purpose. As you go along, you begin to trust these people. Then, one day, everyone working there says you're doing your job absolutely wrong, and they would be better off without you. That is what you six have done to Daphne. She's still here, of course. She can't just leave. But as I continue, keep in mind that this is pure conjecture and opinion and is not based on any fact.

"I'm scared. That is why you are hearing from me. I would rather not talk to you; I would rather simply sit on the sidelines. But this is the first time out of everything you've experienced, in which I legitimately fear for our collective lives. Even in Facility-Wide, I was sure David could have gotten out on his own. I simply felt I owed it to him for the drunkenness I had caused. But I believe this might be the most legitimate threat we have faced since coming here. I think the Daphne we knew is gone. In the best case scenario, she might try to change to please us. But I do not want to think about the worst case scenario, though I fear that might be the very scenario we have to face. I will not be so active in the future. ~Mabel"

"Wait, so we're part of a _disease_?" Mia exclaimed. "I mean...no way! I mean...I kind of guessed that, but hearing it kind of...creeps me out. I mean...how much of us is real?"

"Or _which _one of us is real," Tristan added.

"Okay, let's not even get into that, please," Alice pleaded. "I don't want another one of us leaving because we're sure we're useless."

"So...what do we do now?" Toby asked uncertainly. "Daphne's gone...can we get her back?"

"I think mabel said she migt come back on her own," David said. "But she said she's scared...and I'm kinda sure that's bad."

"At the risk of sounding heartless," Mabel interrupted calmly. "I don't see how Daphne's absence changes our overall goal. Her being gone does not deter from the fact that we came to Wyvern to find fraternal connections. That does not mean, of course, that we may have acquired another goal along the way, and that goal may have gained precedence to our previous."

"Do you have a shmeckin' thesaurus or something?" Adrian asked dryly. "Seriously. 'Fraternal connections'? 'gained precedence to our previous'? How many of those are actually words?"

"All of them," Tristan quipped. "I checked."

"Right, we're in a library," Alice said. "I almost forgot. So...we're going to keep looking for our family, then? Alright. I'm going to look through any family books I can find. Because I am way too warm to go outside again. Deal with it."

* * *

"Do you need some genealogy books, Miss Alice?" Linden said behind her.

"Aah!" Alice yelled, snatching the journal and turning around quickly to face him.

_Ohmigod he's cute._

"Sorry, did I startle you?" he asked apologetically. "I meant nothing by it."

_Ohmigod he's cute _and _he has an accent. He's perfect. Okay, Alice, say something endearing. Don't flub it up._

"How...um, I mean, how do you know my...my, uh...ah...my n-name?" Alice stuttered.

_I flubbed it up._

"Ah, I was reading over you," Linden said sheepishly. "It just jumped out at me."

Alice nodded dumbly, before noticing something she probably should've noticed earlier.

"Wh-what are you wearing? On your head? I mean body? Or...uh..." Alice trailed off, not wanting to make even more of an idiot of herself than what had already been accomplished.

On top of Linden's head was what looked like a visor. It was white in color, with a flat white band stretching across his back. A protruding section over the right eye had a large red cross on it, and over the left eye was a long antenna with a blue tip. It looked really high-technical, and Alice had absolutely no idea what it was.

"Ah, this? It's the headgear for my Copy Copy Ability," Linden said, removing the headgear and placing it on the table with a metallic clang.

"Copy Ability? Ash mentioned those, I'm pretty sure..."

"You aren't familiar with Copy Abilities?" Linden asked as he withdrew a large book from a shelf. "To keep it short and simple, Copy Abilities are abilities exclusive to puffballs. Most of us can only use one, a rare amount can use two, but only one can use every Copy Ability in existence. That was Kirby. He had an ability also called the Copy Ability - yes, they're the same name - that allowed him to absorb the essence of his foes and convert it into a specific type of energy that he could use against them. Most of the time, this energy came in the form of some type of power endowed hat or headgear. These headgear, when worn by a puffball who is familiar with the methods to use it, grants the same abilities Kirby would have used. In most cases."

"Oh," Alice said, her mind racing to comprehend everything Linden had said. She had spent the first three sentences or so lost in his eyes, and she struggled to catch up. "So...um...what do you mean by 'most cases'?" That sounded like she was listening, right?

"I mean this Ability, Copy," Linden said. "Usually, it would grant Kirby another Ability in the same way he always did. But since I do not know how to use any other Copy Ability, it's rendered useless for me. With...a few exceptions. You see, this was an alternate method Kirby used in juxtaposition to inhaling. It left the enemy intact, and rather than absorbing its energy...this headgear absorbs information. So it does prove quite useful to me."

Small alarms began to sound in Alice's head. She ignored them. "Useful how?"

"As I said, things I scan provide information," Linden repeated. "Did you know I've technically read every single book in this library with this headgear? I am, of course, prone to forget, but a two second scan grants the information again. I've read every book here...except one.

"That one."

Alice followed Linden's line of sight until it connected with her journal. The alarms didn't seem very small anymore. She protectively brought it against her body, not sure exactly _what_ that was going to accomplish.

Linden gave a short laugh. "I was making a point, madam. I'm not going to delve into it. Unless, of course, you want a demonstration of the Copy Copy Ability?

_Don't do it,_ Alice thought. _Don't let the absolutely gorgeous puffball do what he says he's gonna do._

"What kind of demonstration?" she asked uncertainly.

Linden nodded at the journal. "I know nearly none of the contents of that book, barring the one passage you wrote. If you'll allow it, I'll tell you something about the first few pages. I swear on my honour I won't read past them. Is there anything important in the first few pages you would not want me to read?"

_Don't do it. Don't do it._

"Ah-no. I don't re-uh...remember anything," she said cautiously. _Attractive people aren't evil, right? He seems nice. He's not bad. He isn't going to do anything bad, right? He's nice._

"Alright. May I have the journal? It's easier to control how much information I get if I'm holding the object myself."

_DON'T DO IT DON'T DO IT DON'T DO IT_

"O-okay..." Alice stuttered, handing him the diary.

Linden slipped on the headgear, and almost instantly, a blue beam shot from the red cross and darted to and fro on the diary's cover.

_WHAT ARE YOU DOING YOU IDIOT YOU'RE TELLING HIM EVERYTHING but he said he'd only read the first few pages BUT PEOPLE LIE_

The blue beam disappeared.

"You walked all the way here from Wayford?" Linden asked with wide eyes as he gave the journal back. "That's quite a long way."

_It's too late.._

After stuffing the diary into her sack, Alice looked up at him with a sheepish grin. "Yeah...I'm pretty sure we nearly died on Mount Leftalon."

_What, giving him the journal wasn't enough!?_

"Oh dear," Linden gasped. "Well, madam, I'm happy you seem to have made it out alright."

A bell rang, signaling someone entering the library. Alice turned to see Liz. Her eyes went from her to Linden.

"Hello, Liz, madam," Linden bowed, placing the Copy headgear gingerly back on the table. "To what do I owe your presence?"

"Just a book on auditory sciences and another on general anatomy, please," Liz said curtly. "Oh, Cece. You might want to come with me."

"Wh-what? Why?" Alice asked, concerned. It had not escaped her that this 'Liz' was a surgeon.

Liz's eyes flitted to Linden, as if giving her a signal. Through her teeth, she said it again. "You _might_ want to come with me."

Alice looked back to Linden, who was sorting through the shelves with a rather large book in hand. When he turned around with a second book he smiled. "Here you are, Liz. Oh, erm...Cece, are you going with Liz?" he asked. "Well, it was nice talking with you. Feel free to come back any time you like."

Alice turned back to Liz, whose manner of desperation had all but disappeared. "Come on, then," she said before she turned to walk out the door. Alice, with no other option, followed her.

"Goodbye, Alice," she heard Linden say behind her as the door clicked shut.

It was the afternoon now. Grey clouds lined the sky as small white specks coated the ground. A low whistle accompanied a slight pushing force that chilled Alice past uncomfortability. She shivered.

"You were talking with Linden," Liz said simply.

Alice gave a small nod, still not sure what Liz wanted with her. "Yeah."

"How was it?"

"What?"

Liz stopped and turned to face her. "What was it like talking to him? What did he do?"

"He, uh..." Alice stopped. For some reason, it was hard to remember. What had happened? He was really cute; she remembered that. Didn't he say something about Liz? Or was that Ash?

After a long silence, Liz closed her eyes. "You can't remember, can you?"

"Not really, no," Alice affirmed. "Why?"

"Did he show you his Copy headgear?"

"...I think so...?"

"Alright. He showed you his headgear. He asked if you wanted to see a demonstration, and whether you wanted to or not you said yes. He took something personal of yours, promised he wouldn't read too much into it and scanned it. Then he told you something about the part he said he would read." Liz began walking briskly again, leaving Alice to catch up. Once this task was done, Liz faced her again as she walked. "Is that about what happened?"

"...Maybe."

"Listen to me, Cece," Liz said somberly. "I have seen very grisly things in my lifetime. I'm a surgeon. I regularly perform operations that could mean life and death. I hold lives in my stubs on a weekly basis. Over the years, I have learned to desensitize myself to these stressful thoughts. But Linden scares me. Don't think too much about something you don't want anyone to know. You may stay with me again tonight if you wish."

Alice wasn't sure what to think anymore. She vaguely remembered something about the situation Liz had described earlier, but it could've just as easily been something she had read in a book. She _had _been in a library, after all. Maybe Liz had read the book too. That was what she was talking about, right? A book? Right. They'd been discussing books.

"Or do you have somewhere else to stay tonight?" Liz asked, the tone in her voice unchanged.

Alice jumped. "Huh? Oh, no. I'd appreciate it if I could stay at the clinic again tonight."

"Granted," Liz stated as she walked up the steps and unlocked the door. "I won't be back until morning. Please don't lock yourself out again, Cece."

"Okay, I won't," Alice said, the back of her mind questioning what one of the others had done to warrant something like that.

* * *

Alice sat down at the patient's table, ready to start writing her update. She fetched her pen from the sack and opened the diary. Out of curiosity, she decided to flip to the back of the book to see if David had drawn anything new. She flipped through the pages, idly looking at the disturbing drawings, until something caught her eye.

"Cursive...?" Alice squinted at the graceful, nearly uniform letters on the page. None of them wrote cursive. Not even Daphne, when she was here. But what did it say? Alice tried to decipher the long sweeping lettering.

"Wyvern is...deception...?"

* * *

**Rather short chapter. Sorry, guys.**

**I said Linden had an accent. Based on the hint I've given you, see if you can guess what it is. Yes, it's one singular hint, and no, it's not referenced in anything he says. The accent is subtle, and you can't write subtle accents. So see if you can guess what accent Linden has! Winner gets a lifetime's supply of chain mail protection until tomorrow!**


	21. Turnabout Fate

**So! About Linden's accent. Some of you guessed Canadian. Some of you guessed British. Some of you guessed Scottish. Some of you guessed Valley Girl (I'mma say it right now. You people were wrong.) And the big reveal...will be at the END of the chapter!**

**CLIFFHANGER**CLIFFHANGER****CLIFFHANGER****CLIFFHANGER****CLIFFHANGER****CLIFFHANGER****CLIFFHANGER****CLIFFHANGER****CLIFFHANGER****CLIFFHANGER****CLIFFHANGER****

****By the way, the chapter name is a pun. FORESHADOWING ABOUT THE FOLLOWING FIVE MINUTES OR SO. It's a reference to something, too.****

* * *

**_Window to the Past_**

**_Chapter 21: Turnabout Fate_**

Tristan blinked, a bit disorientated from the switch. The journal was open in front of him, beckoning him to write. Apparently the last one who had written was Alice.

_"Okay, I want EVERYONE to look at this, guys. Check the back of the book near David's drawings."_

_Oh, no..._Tristan thought with a sinking feeling in his heart. He flipped through the dwindling empty pages in the journal to the back. David's disturbing sketches once again faced him.

There didn't seem to be any extra ones from the last time he looked. But those figures...the tall black ones that were in nearly every picture...what were they? Trees? People? Tristan flipped backward until he came to the different drawing. This one didn't have flowing curves, like all the other ones. Every line was jagged and dangerous. He flipped back more.

His heart nearly stopped.

_Wyvern is...deception_

"What the-?" Tristan forced out after a fear-filled gulp. "What does that mean!?"

_Isn't it obvious?_ he answered. _Wyvern is deceptive._

"But it says deception...Who wrote this...?"

_I don't recognize the handwriting. None of us write in cursive. Not even Mabel._

Tristan fell silent. Wyvern is deception. What did that mean? Why didn't Alice write more than just a 'check this out' request? He flipped to the beginning of the journal and began to write again.

* * *

"...Chaos? What day is it?" I asked.

Chaos, who had been looking over my shoulder as I wrote, shrugged. "Not sure. We don't have any sort of calendar here. Though that might be because we don't have a day-night cycle and we don't sleep."

"Do you think we've passed July?"

"Why July?"

I took my hands off the keyboard and propped them on the table, resting my chin. "I'm wondering if I missed my birthday."

"Your sixteenth birthday?" Chaos asked to confirm. "Well...do you feel sixteen?"

I turned to him, unimpressed. "How can I feel sixteen if I don't know what sixteen feels like?"

"You have me there."

I let out a breath slowly, contemplating how long I must've spent here. "How old are you, Chaos?"

"I don't know," said Chaos. "I don't really understand how time goes here in relation to where you came from. It might be parallel, it might not flow at all. Maybe you'll go back after the story's done and find you haven't been gone two minutes," he speculated. "Like Narnia."

"Doesn't the Narnia thing change every time they go there? And wasn't it different in the last book?" I asked absently, before shaking my head. "I certainly hope I haven't aged. My sixteenth is supposed to be some huge celebration. Y'know, Sweet Sixteen, right?"

"I think only women get Sweet Sixteens," Chaos guessed.

I frowned. "Shoot." Then my frown deepened. "Actually...if I _am_ aging, Chaos...what happens if I die here?"_  
_

"...What?"

Turning around, I nodded. "Yeah, what if I die? Like...what if I get cancer or something? If I die here, what happens?"

"What brought this line of thinking?" Chaos asked, aghast.

I smiled. "I said shoot. That made me think of guns, which made me think of death, which made me think of my death specifically, which made me think about where it would happen, which...you get the picture," I finished. "So. What do you think would happen? Do I actually exist here? If I died, would I go back to Earth? Would I expire? Because...um..."

Chaos crossed his arms. "I still can't believe you're thinking about this."

"No, no, let me finish!" I scolded him. "I mean, I'm here because I'm living out the story I wrote, right? So the story has to end the way I wrote it. And in the end, I decide I'm going to rewrite the trilogy and make it better, and then I go home. So if I die before then, what happens? Does it do, like, a do-over or something? Maybe it just won't happen. Or...y'know, maybe I just die."

"Multikirby, please stop talking about this," Chaos requested uncomfortably.

I stared at him, trying my best to insert some sort of chiding look into my eyes. He relented.

"Yes, yes, I know, it's a slip of the tongue," he said, exasperated. "I know Multikirby, Cameron. You aren't him."

"Chaos, if I do actually die, can you continue the story for me?" I asked.

Chaos looked like he was going to be sick. "Cameron, _please_. I don't like thinking about you being gone. So stop talking about it."

"But will you?"

He squinted his eyes shut. "Yes, Cameron. If you die, I'll finish the trilogy. Now _please stop._"

* * *

"Okay, I want EVERYONE to look at this, guys. Check the back of the book near David's drawings," Alice wrote.

"It says 'Wyvern is deception' in cursive," Tristan wrote. "None of us wrote it."

"If none of us wrote it...who did?" Toby questioned.

"what does deception mean?" David asked.

"It means that Wyvern's trying to trick us," Mia wrote. "But it's in a weird tense. Shouldn't it be 'Wyvern is deceptive' or 'Wyvern uses deception' or 'Wyvern has deception' or something like that? It's weird; the cursive gives me the vibe that whoever wrote it was, like, literate. So why would they make a mistake like that? And like Toby said, WHO even wrote it? The words are so neat, and none of us write like that. Not even Mabel. Not even Daphne."

"Not to change the subject, but are we sleeping in the clinic again tonight?" Adrian asked, changing the subject. "Because I am so shmeckin' tired right now."

"Why do you keep saying 'shmeck'?" Alice asked.

"It's a replacement word, I think," Toby said.

"Yeah," Adrian wrote. "Because you wouldn't shut up about me saying the wrong thing in front of David. I figure if I make something up you can't get mad at me for it."

"So shmeck isn't a bad word then?" David asked. "Hear that alice? It's not a bad word, so I can say it."

"Anyways, are we going to sleep?" Mia asked. "Because if we are, I don't think Tristan should stay up counting corners again."

"Is that why I was so tired this morning?" Alice asked. "He stayed up all night?"

"'kay, I'm going to bed." David wrote, closing the diary. He put it on the bedside table before climbing into bed. He closed his eyes and slowed his breathing as he prepared to drift off until

_ring ring ring_

The ringing of a phone came from the adjacent room. David sat up in the bed, listening again to make sure he wasn't hearing things.

_ring ring ring_

Yep, that definitely wasn't him. He scooted forward and jumped off the bed, sprawling the covers on the floor. He slowly walked over to the door, pushing it open carefully. David peeked out from behind the wooden door, to make sure nobody was there.

_ring ring ring_

Where was that coming from? Another room? David squinted, trying to make out his surroundings in the dark clinic. He listened again for the ringtone so he could orient himself in relation to the phone.

_ring ring ring_

It was to his right. He turned in that direction and made a few steps forward. David remembered it sounded like it was behind a wall or something. It was probably in another room. There was a door right next to him.

_ring ring ring_

David opened the door and saw an electronic glow on a bedside table next to a gurney. He ran over and picked it up.

"Hello?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm okay. Thanks," David's father's crackly voice filled his head with a sense of nostalgia. "Listen, uh...They're telling me I've got an appointment in about fifteen minutes...Listen. You've grown up, and your mother doesn't want me to tell you this, but...I don't think I'm going to make it. Listen, while I'm gone, I need you to look after your mother, okay? She's gotten really stressed after what happened to you and your sister, so I need you to keep your head up, alright? But don't worry. I'll be fine. I'll talk to you later."

The phone slipped out of David's stub, clattering on the linoleum floor. David didn't hear it.

"He's sick," he whispered. "Dad's sick."

He dashed out of the room and raced back to his diary, scrawled what had happened into the diary, then jumped into bed. He yanked the covers over his head, letting the thoughts of the phone call echo through his head as David slowly sank into a deep, fitful sleep.

* * *

You stared down at the journal in front of you. Curious, you began flipping through the pages. Each page had small sentences that together seemed to form one-half of a conversation. You reach the beginning of the book and read the page's contents.

This book belongs to: 

* * *

Toby drew a small breath of air as he was lightly jolted awake.

_Strange,_ he thought. _It was a dream, not a nightmare. What was that book? What do all these dreams mean? What time is it?_

Toby looked at a clock mounted on the wall.

"Nine o' clock," he said simply. "Okay, that question's answered. Wait...nine o' clock? That seems a bit late doesn't it?"

Toby froze up as he heard a knock on the door outside.

"Lizzer! Are you in yet?" a familiar voice called. "Your office hours say you should've been in thirty minutes ago!"

"F-Fey...?" Toby whispered.

Before he even realized what he was doing, he rushed out of bed and yanked the door open to see Fey's startled face. The expression quickly melted into something more humorous as she recognized who she was talking to.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't Cece," she said, grinning. "Fancy seeing you here."

"...Fey," Toby breathed as blood rushed to his cheeks.

"Yeah! How've you been doing, Cece?" Fey asked. "I haven't seen you since...well, since I ran off after the Tac encounter," she finished as she waved the tape recorder for emphasis.

"...Fey," he repeated, unable to say anything.

"Ah...can I come in? I don't know if you've noticed, but this town tends to give you the cold shoulder - sorry, that was bad."

"...F-" Toby stopped himself. "Oh! Oh, yes, of course! I'm so sorry!" Stumbling over himself, he tried to get out of the way of the door. Fey stepped inside and gave him a wry expression.

"Let me guess," she said as she turned around to close the door. "Toby."

If his cheeks were hot before, they were on fire now. "Y-yeah," he squeaked.

"What are you doing in Wyvern?" Fey asked as she walked over to the waiting room section of the clinic and sat down on the couch. "I knew I was going to see you again at some point, but _here_, of all places."

"I, uh...I came here to...to, uh...Sorry, I just didn't..." Toby stumbled over his own words, cursing himself in his head at each and every stutter. "I didn't think I'd be seeing you so soon-"

"You gotta look up, Toby," Fey reminded him. "Deaf, remember?"

_I'm an idiot._

"Sorry, I forgot," Toby said sheepishly as he raised his face so Fey could see him. He explained what had happened since Niccola Forest, talking about the _Daybreak_ and Wayford, Mt. Leftalon and Facility-Wide.

"Wow, that's quite a bit of stuff you did there," she said, bemused. "I came back that way, too. I've been moving back and forth across the continent as I tried to look for a way back to where I came from. I think I've exhausted the possibilities on the continent, so I'm probably going to move north to Corfort soon for more leads. But Wyvern's probably going to stay my home base. Hey, have you met Lizzer and Whiplash yet?"

"Um...no, I don't recognize those names," Toby said slowly, shaking his head.

Fey gave a small laugh. "No, those're nicknames. Their real names are Liz and Ash. They'd probably be the first two puffballs you'd see when you got here."

"I think they were, actually," Toby said. "Alice wrote about them. I think Alice has a crush on Ash, actually."

"Accent, right?" Fey said flatly.

Toby nodded. "It's ridiculous."

"So, Toby," Fey said as she leaned back on the couch. She didn't continue.

Toby looked to the side, then back at her. "...Yes?"

"Why are you still standing over by the door?"

"Uh..." he trailed off, staring at the open door as a fresh cold breeze whizzed past him inside. Without another thought, he seized the door and slammed it shut with a little too much gusto. Looking back apologetically, he walked over to the waiting room area and sat down on a seat next to Fey.

"So...um...Fey?"

"Yeah, Toby?"

Toby bit his lower lip, wondering whether it was okay for him to bring this specific topic up. His curiosity got the better of him. "You said you were looking for a way to get back home?"

"Yeah," Fey nodded. "I, uh, got washed ashore here a long time ago. Around...three years ago?"

Toby gawked. "Three years!?"

"It's a pretty long time," Fey agreed. "But I've been looking for clues as to exactly which direction home is."

Toby sat back on the chair. "But...you said you washed ashore. Wouldn't home be in that direction?"

"You'd think that, wouldn't you?" She phrased it more like a statement than a question. "But my circumstances...circumstances? Am I saying that right?"

"Uh, yeah. I think so."

"Okay, good." Fey continued. "So anyways, my circumstances are a bit different. I've looked through a lot of geography books, atlases and the like, and none of the continents look even remotely familiar to me. So I'm thinking my home's pretty far away."

Nodding in understanding, Toby agreed with her. "I might be in the same boat. But...I have a feeling my situation's a bit more far-fetched..."

That earned him a look, so Toby took that cue to derail the topic. "So why are you here, exactly?"

"Oh, that's exciting news," Fey said with a smile. "You're gonna want to hear this...and so am I, actually..." She smirked.

"What?"

Fey's smile widened. "Lizzer's been looking at developing a procedure to get my hearing back!"

"Really? That's great!" Toby exclaimed.

"I know! I'm really excited, but..." Liz's smile melted into an expression of wary thought. "I'm a little worried."

"Why's that?

Fey's smile returned, but it was a little more uneasy. "Lizzer's doing the operation, obviously, but...she and I have a kind of...abrasive friendship."

Toby cocked his head. "What does that mean?"

"Well, we're friends, but she's...um..."

The door opened and Liz stepped inside, holding the books she had taken from the library the night prior. "Cece, are you still here?" she asked as she closed the door behind her.

"Yeah," Toby said from the couch. "Fey's come to see you."

"Oh, yes, Ash told me yesterday you were acquainted with Fey," Liz said, looking up as if trying to remember. "You were the one that helped her apprehend Tac, correct?"

"Yeah, that was me," said Toby. "But, uh, I wouldn't call it...'apprehend'..."

"He's, uh...not going to be bothering anybody anytime soon," Fey said awkwardly.

Liz gave the two of them a chastising look. "Violence solves nothing."

Fey gave a mirthless laugh. "You're one to talk!"

"Well," Liz said with a sigh as she readjusted her grip on the books. "Violence solves nothing unless it solves something."

"What?" Toby mumbled to himself.

"Anyways, Fey." Liz looked Fey in the eye. "I assume you're here to ask about the procedure."

Fey nodded. "Yeah. How's it coming?"

Liz said nothing. Instead, she walked across the room to a door adjacent to the one Toby had slept in earlier. Right before entering, she turned back to face Toby and Fey. "Come with me," she said simply.

Toby and Fey decided to comply.

Upon entering the room, Liz frowned slightly at the fact that the phone was off the hook. "Cece, did you do this?"

Toby blinked. "Um...maybe. I, uh...I sleepwalk."

Fey gave him a questioning glance, wordlessly asking whether she knew. Toby shook his head. Fey's questioning glance turned into a questioning of a different kind, but she seemed to let it go as she shrugged. They entered the room together.

"I've been looking into puffball anatomy, specifically the auditory region," Liz explained. "Cece, you saw me check these books out of the library. What I've found was quite...interesting. As it turns out-"

Fey scowled. "Liz, if you're saying anything, I can't _hear_ you, remember?"

"Ah, sorry," Liz said as she turned around. "I was saying that I've been looking into the operation, and I might have made a breakthrough. You lost your hearing in an explosive accident, right?"

"Yeah, about three months after showing up here," Fey confirmed. "Why?"

"Well, it has to do with the engineering the headgear for the Crash and Bomb abilities that allow the user immunity to auditory damage," Liz continued. "Basically, something in the hats prevents them from going deaf. So I've been able to find out exactly what it is in the headgears that does this. If all goes well, I should be able to restore your hearing by the end of tomorrow."

Fey squealed. "Toby! Toby, I'm going to get my hearing back tomorrow!"

Wait, what?

* * *

****Linden's **accent is Irish. **His** namesake is from the Irish/Scottish art song 'Linden Lea'.**

**Hey. Hey, readers. Readers. Readers, guess what? Guess what, readers?**

**I WON'T BE POSTING A SINGLE CHAPTER FOR CHRISTMAS BREAK. MUAHAHAHAHAHAHA! AAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! BRUUUUHAHAHAHAHAHA! AHA! HAHAHA! HAHA! HA! HARDEEHAR! HOOOHOOHOOHOOHEEHEEHEE!**

**Okay, I'm done. See you guys next year! Don't worry. Next chapter will be much, MUCH longer. Veterans will know why.**


	22. Sacked

**Merry Christmas, guys. Happy Hanukkah. Merry...Kwanzaa? Is it 'Merry' or 'Happy' or something else for Kwanzaa? I dunno, I'm Canadian. Sorry. Yes, I know I said I wouldn't post anything for Christmas, but there's a little thing called 'lying'. Try it sometime!**

**This is your present from me. It's a biggie. Just sayin'. Total biggie here. You can tell from the chapter title, can't you?...Can't you?...It's 'Sacked', by the way. The chapter's title is 'Sacked'. But you could probably just tell by looking down...right?**

**Also, my word processor says that 'Didn'tcha' isn't a word, but 'didntcha' is. So...yeah. But then again, it says that it's spelled favor, not favour, so the red squiggly lines are American. Go figure.**

* * *

_**Window to the Past**_

_**Chapter 22:**** Sacked**_

No, that can't be right. Fey can't get her hearing back yet. And why did the chapter post on its own...? Wait...Oh, shoot! I'm still narrating! Sorry, guys. I'll try to be impartial. Here, just let me get back on track.

Toby doubted that such a procedure could be researched and done in such a short amount of time. He didn't say so, of course, but he didn't want to get Fey's hopes up, so he

"That's great!" Toby exclaimed. "Can you really do that, Liz?"

Um...Okay. They shouldn't be able to talk when I'm narrating. And I should be able to write what they're saying...here, um...just let me...

* * *

"Chaos, I've got a bit of a problem," I said uncertainly.

Chaos looked up from his desk at me by my laptop. "Yeah? What would that be?"

"The story's going on without me."

Getting up, he walked over to the laptop over by my shoulder. "What does that mean?"

"Look at this," I said, pointing at the section above the rather distracting text cursor. "Toby interrupted the narration. That shouldn't happen, right?"

Chaos visibly paled.

I began to get unnerved. "This isn't _serious_, is it, Chaos?"

"Is there anything else?" he asked calmly, though the trembling that wracked his body told a different story.

"Um...yeah," I said, stumbling over my words as his fear got to me. "The last chapter...it said by itself that Fey would get her hearing back and then posted itself...and it's _way_ too early in the story for Fey to get her hearing back."

"And the story's writing itself? And you can't delete any of it?" Chaos finished.

I nodded. "What should I do?"

Chaos took a deep, shaky breath. "Go with it. Let it run its course. Maybe you'll be...maybe you'll be able to edit it afterward."

"Okay. Okay, I'll do that."

* * *

"I should be able to, yes," Liz said with a nod. "And by the looks of how far I've come, I should be able to do it sooner rather than later."

"I'm so excited!" Fey cheered, before halting. She stopped, and her smile fell. "Wait." She turned to Liz with a sour expression. "It's going to be painful, isn't it?"

Liz gave a small grin. "Needlessly."

"Oy vey," Fey sighed.

Toby decided that he wasn't really part of this conversation, so he excused himself and went into his room to refresh himself on what had happened yesterday. Sinking his stub into his sac, Toby pulled out the diary and cracked it open, flipping to the last page.

"We had a phone call from dad," Toby read under his breath. "He's sick."

Toby took the pen from the spine of the diary and after drawing a few circles to spur the ink, began to write.

* * *

"On a bit of a happier note," Toby wrote after giving another glance to David's depressing report. "Liz is able to get Fey's hearing back."

"Why do we care?" Tristan asked. "It doesn't concern us. The phone call sounds interesting, though."

"What does that say?" Mia asked. "I can barely read it. Something about...sticks?"

"no, Dads _**SICK**_," David stressed. "The writing's bad becose i didn't want to forget anything."

"How can you remember anything if you can't even read it?" Adrian pointed out.

"I just thought it'd be nice for you guys to know..." Toby wrote apologetically. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize, Tristan's being a jerk," Alice replied.

"Jerk or not, Fey getting her hearing back means nothing to me," Tristan retorted. "It doesn't keep us alive and it doesn't bring us any closer to what we want to get done."

"That's a good point, I guess," Mia admitted. "But still, it's nice to know what's going on, right? He was trying to give an update. Maybe we're talking to Fey once she gets her hearing back? That means we can look away from her and still talk. And that sort of changes something, right?"

* * *

Mia was interrupted by a tapping at the window. She turned to look out the window, but didn't see anything there. Turning back to the diary, she began to write again.

_THWACK_

Mia jumped with a yelp. She was not hearing things. There was something at her window. She got to her feet and jumped up onto the bed. Through the glass, she saw a red puffball with a red western hat and a whip gesturing for her to come out the front door. She presumed this to be Ash. Mia jumped down from the bed and opened the door to the main part of the clinic. Liz and Fey were still talking about the operation, and Fey's expression didn't look quite as happy as it had a while before.

_Aw, poor thing,_ Mia thought. _She's scared stiff._

As she turned to walk out the front door, Mia felt an unsettling prickling on her back, as if someone were watching her leave. She quietly opened the door and stepped through. Ash was out on the front porch.

"Hey. Thanks fer comin' out," Ash said as Mia closed the door from behind him.

"I don't think you've met me yet," Mia replied as she held her stub out for Ash to take. "I'm Mia. Nice to meet you."

Ash shook, then stepped back. "So I'd assume yer another girl, along with Alice, then?"

Mia nodded. "There's ei...I, uh...I mean seven of us. Alice, Toby, Adrian...David, Tristan, me, and...um...Daphne." Mia wasn't sure why she would rather talk about someone who wasn't there than mention Mabel. She had originally switched from eight to seven because of Daphne's absence, but...something about saying Mabel's name out loud seemed wrong somehow. "Anyways, what did you need? You kind of...whipped the window."

"Ah, yeah." Ash took a small breath before continuing. "This goes against every single inch of common sense in my body, but...I have a favour t' ask o' you."

"Alright," Mia said carefully. "Shoot."

"I need you to go north and look at a riverbank."

"...Come again?" Mia shot Ash a confused look. "A riverbank?"

"When you were walking over to my house, you saw about enough empty houses to house a small army, didntcha?" he asked as he looked in his house's general direction.

Mia recalled those moments with a sudden pain in her backside. She winced. "Yep. I remember them pretty darn well...There sure were a lot of 'em."

"Wyvern was never so lonely," Ash said sadly. "'Bout a year ago, these streets would've been filled t' the brim with puffballs walkin' to and fro, goin' about their business. But e'er since...well, last year, folks've started goin' missing."

"Missing?" Mia stated, surprised. "Like...poof? Gone? Vanished? And you think it has something to do with the riverbank?"

"...Yeah," Ash said reluctantly. "There's some weird stuff goin' on up there...and whenever I go for reconnaissance, whatever's up there always gets wise and bolts without a trace."

Mia frowned. "So why me, then?"

"You and Fey took Tac down. T' do that, you need stealth and you need strength. I figger you've got both. So that's why I'm askin' you, even though you're an outsider."

"What kind of stuff is going on there?" Mia asked. "Sketchy stuff? Is that why a whole bunch of puffballs are going missing?...Should I be concerned about going missing?"

"I've been up there a few times m'self, and I'm still here t' tell you th' tale," Ash argued. "Anyways, can you think about it? Tell me after noon?"

"After noon?!" Mia protested.

"Yeah," Ash confirmed. "I'm gettin' concerned, and frankly, I don't want any of us goin' missing anytime soon. I figger the sooner the better."

Mia sighed. He did have a point, though something was nagging at her. "Fine. I'll think about it. No. Promises," she stressed, pointing a stub at him and giving him a careful look.

"Fine by me."

Mia turned around, shaking her head as she reentered the clinic. As she clicked the door open, she was suddenly assaulted with Fey and Liz talking at length.

"So that's it, then? Today?" Fey asked loudly. Mia pushed the door open a bit more, revealing their faces.

Liz nodded. "Yep. I should have preparations finished a bit after twelve. Come by twelve-thirty or so."

"Alright. Hey, Cece," Fey said as she passed Mia by. "See you, Cece. Hear you later!"

Mia nodded dumbly. Something about that seemed off. Liz, too, abruptly excused herself from the waiting room, electing to go to the door past her office.

"Hello, Paula, how are we today?" she said, her voice muted by the door behind her and the distance between herself and Mia. She chose to ignore it, and instead went to her room to discuss it with herself.

Opening the door, she went to the bedside table, only to find the journal already open, with something scrawled on it.

_**DON'T GO TO THE RIVER!**_

_Oh, boy..._

* * *

"Before any of you ask, no, that wasn't me," Mia wrote. "I don't know who it is. But whoever wrote that, they really don't want us to go to the river. It's bold, underlined, _and_ italicized. And it's in caps. But anyways. I was writing in the journal, and I heard Ash whipping at my window. With his whip. I went outside, and he told me to go check out a river near Corfort. Apparently puffballs are going missing, and we're stealthy and strong enough to do it since we took down Tac. I dunno. I wanted to talk to you guys before I made any sort of decision. I'm gonna be 100% honest: I don't want to do it. I mean, Ash is nice enough, but the way he talked about the river scared me."

"We would not benefit from this," Tristan wrote. "I say nay."

"Aw, come on, guys, it's called a favour!" Alice protested.

"You're not allowed an opinion," Adrian retorted. "You want to suck his face. Did he say exactly _what_ sketchy stuff is going on up there?"

"I think we should do it, but that's just me," Toby wrote. "We're friends with him, and he thinks we can do it. Maybe it has something to do with us losing our memory. It has to do with puffballs going missing, right? What if we went a while ago, and we went missing?"

"We'd be back at square one," Tristan answered.

"We should go it's a nice thing to do," David said. "Are we going to beat people up?"

"No, he just wants us to check it out," wrote Mia. "Reconnaissance and stuff. It just seems dangerous, is all."

"And he thinks we can do it because we were stealthy enough to beat Tac?" Adrian argued. "News flash! We got caught, remember?"

"Yes," Tristan agreed.

"How about this. We go and see what's there, and if it gets too dangerous, we bail," Alice suggested.

"I dunno, I'm really not liking the look of that big bold underlined italicized all-caps warning we have up there," Mia wrote. "It seems serious. What if someone here knows something we don't?"

"We're split down the middle," Toby observed. "Alice, David, and I want to go; Adrian, Mia, and Tristan want to stay. Maybe Mabel can break the vote."

"What makes you think she's going to do that?" Adrian asked. "She said herself she's just going to sit back and watch. Why the heck would she pitch in now?"

"Because we need her?" Mia hinted. "Mabel? Anytime."

"This is stupid," Tristan wrote.

"Okay, fine. Then what do we do? Rock Paper Scissors?" Alice asked.

"We can't do Rock paper scissors. It wouldn't work," David said.

"She might've used sarcasm," Toby guessed. "Was that sarcasm? I don't want to assume in case I'm wrong."

"I say we do it."

"Who was that?" Tristan asked. "They didn't sign. It was one of you, wasn't it?"

"No, the handwriting's different. It isn't any of ours. Aw, man, is there _another_ personality in this body?! How many do we have?! I THINK EIGHT IS ENOUGH, THANK YOU VERY MUCH!"

"That means we go to the river!" David pointed out. "Its 4-3!"

"...Fine. But just to be clear, if we die, I'm going to kill all of you," Adrian wrote gruffly as he closed the journal.

* * *

Adrian and Ash were standing at the north boundary to Wyvern. Beyond them was a frost-laden expanse that stretched as far as Adrian could see.

"You just go straight from here," Ash explained. "Be careful when you get close. I've never actually gone myself, so-"

"Wait, wait, wait. Hold _up._" Adrian turned to Ash. "You're sending a complete stranger someplace where people have been _known_ to go missing, and you haven't even gone yourself!?"

Ash quickly realized his mistake. "Well, I _have,_ but I was never able t' get close enough to them to see what-"

"Them?!" Adrian practically screamed. "Who's 'them'!?"

Looking around, though nobody was in their vicinity, Ash tried to calm Adrian down. "They're what I want you t' find out about. Just don't get too close and you should be fine."

"I really don't like this," Adrian seethed, but without another word, he scooped up his sack and started walking off to the north.

As he went, small snowflakes began to fall from the sky. Adrian tried to ignore the unpleasant sensation of small chunks of ice melting into his skin, but it began to get to him. He was already angry with Ash, and the anonymous idiot who gave the fourth vote. But yelling at the snow would make him look stupid. To himself, anyways. So he ranted quietly instead.

"They're all stupid," Adrian mumbled. "Why am I even doing this? What part of 'missing puffballs' do they not understand? Don't they know this is dangerous? Don't they know we could die? Yeah. They do. And yet we're running a lethal errand for the wannabe sheriff. What's he going to do? Say 'thank ya kindly' and just walk away. _Maybe_ we'll get some gratitude. But what good is shmeckin' gratitude when you're-"

Suddenly Adrian halted. He heard noises...like a river. Remembering what Ash had said about being stealthy, he looked around for some sort of cover.

Too bad there was none.

* * *

I stepped away from the laptop. "Chaos, I can't bear to watch this. I'm going to go work on a different story, okay?"

"Y-yeah. Alright," Chaos said shakily.

"Let's try...No Pokeballs Allowed, then."

* * *

Adrian crouched down as close to the ground as he could, which admittedly wasn't a lot. But he figured it was better than nothing. Adjusting himself, Adrian tried to get a better view of the river. He heard it fine, but no matter how he moved, Adrian couldn't get close enough.

It frustrated him to no end.

Adrian tried to hone his senses, to listen for any sort of sound other than the babbling of the water. He squinted his eyes shut, hoping that would give him more ability to hear something, but he gave up that notion pretty quickly.

Carefully, he got up from the ground and began to sneak forward, inching towards the river. He wanted to have it in view, he wanted to know what the heck was going on so he could get the heck out of here. The ground below him began to incline, and Adrian quickly recognized that he was climbing a hill. Looking up to make sure the summit was devoid of anything that he didn't want to confront, he continued to walk upwards. As he went, he scanned the sides of the river he could see for any sort of 'sketchy' activity. Adrian grinded to a halt as the hill abruptly ended at

Daphne stared down at the black surging waters below her. She could almost see a shattered reflection of herself, her despondent eyes gazing emptily into the river. It seemed to call her. The water was cold and seemed so far below her. How long would it take her to hit the surface if she just jumped? Certainly not long enough for anyone to notice. She looked up. There was nobody here. Nobody would know.

Nobody except the six people who sentenced her to death.

* * *

"C-Chaos...?" I asked, my voice taking on a slight shaking. "No Pokeballs Allowed is doing the same thing."

He refused to look up from his desk. "...What same thing?" he asked.

"It's writing itself. It's different from Window to the Past, but..." I trailed off, trying to gather my thoughts. "I'm getting really really worried, Chaos. What does this mean? I'm just sitting by, watching my stories get written by themselves-"

I stopped. Isn't that what was happening a while ago...?

"Chaos..." I said lowly. "You wouldn't have anything to do with this, would you? If this is a prank, I don't think it's funny, and I want you to stop now."

"I didn't do anything, Mult - Cameron," Chaos said quietly. "I don't know...what to do either."

He was fidgeting under the table. This must be getting to him, too. I sighed in resignation.

"Fine. I'll try Canon Fodder. Maybe it won't happen twice in one story."

* * *

Should she do it? She was not killing her friends. Daphne did not have friends. Daphne did not want to solve problems anymore. The only problem she cared about now was hers.

Should she do it?

The cold winter wind whistled around Daphne. The memories she had retained seemed to grow distant as if they weren't hers. They deserved to die. But did she?

Yes. She did. Daphne took a step back.

And Mabel took control. Not wasting a second, she began running away from the hillside, running away from the river. The cold ground chilled her feet as she sprinted as fast as she could, but Mabel didn't notice. Mabel didn't care. At some point, the streets of Wyvern once again surrounded her. Mabel didn't notice. Mabel didn't care. She made a beeline for the clinic, running only from memory. Mabel had never done that much while in control. It felt wrong. But Mabel didn't notice. Mabel didn't care.

Mabel had never been so scared in her life.

* * *

"Daphne is suicidal," Mabel wrote hurriedly, not taking the time to calm down or appear together. "I repeat. Daphne is suicidal. Do everything in your power to keep her from gaining control. We cannot let Daphne take control."

"...SHE'S WHAT?!" Toby wrote without thinking. "OH MY GOD WE ARE GOING TO DIE DAPHNE'S GOING TO KILL AS AND WE ARE DEAD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD"

"We're going to DIE?!" David exclaimed. "I don't want to die!"

"Calm down, nobody's going to die," wrote Mia. "...Right? I mean they have a point. It's really scary having a potential killer _inside _you. That's...really...freaky...Oh my GOD, WE'RE GOING TO DIE."

"What do we do?" Alice asked. "I don't know how to suppress someone!"

"I'm scared..." Tristan added. "My own fractured brain is trying to kill me. It's like a morally driven aneurysm out for revenge."

"I'm an aneurysm now, am I?" Daphne retorted.

"Oh. My. God." Mia fought the urge to faint.

"I think I'm going to be sick..."

* * *

Toby slammed the journal shut, his cheeks bulging. He rushed out the door and was greeted by an especially cheery Fey.

"Cece! Cece, I got my - are you feeling okay?" Fey's ecstatic expression melted into one of concern. "You look like you're going to be sick."

Toby could only nod in desperation. He placed a stub over his mouth as the stress-induced nausea wracked him with another wave.

"The, uh...the bathroom's over there," Fey said uneasily, pointing to the end of the hall.

He didn't stick around to say thanks. The next thing he knew, the door was shut and Toby was screaming and wailing into a sterilized toilet bowl. He coughed and hacked as he tried to dislodge the unpleasant tickling feeling in the back of his throat, but nothing was there. Something in his body was trying to kill him. Something in _his body_ was trying to _kill_ him. The thought was overwhelming.

Seven minutes later, Toby decided staring despondently into the toilet bowl wasn't going to fix anything, so he rose to his feet with a small cough. Turning on the faucet, Toby took a disposable cup and downed a few glasses of water. He heard a knock on the door.

"Toby? Are you okay?" Fey asked. "I just wanted to tell you that while you were gone, Liz got the operation done, and I got my hearing back. It hurts like nothing I've ever experienced before, but...I can hear my voice! I can hear myself! I can hear you! I can hear everything! It's _great!_"

Stumbling to the door, Toby hastily opened it. "Fey, I-"

Fey stared at him with an expression of complete astonishement. Her eyes were round and wide, her mouth agape in a shocked 'o'. "...Say that again. Say my name again," she whispered.

"...Fey...?" Toby shot her a confused look. What didn't help matters was when she bolted off to the waiting room with no word or explanation. Toby ran after her, spouting random apologies, trying to figure out what he had done, or where he went wrong. He grinded to a halt when he saw Fey, shaking like a leaf, holding her precious tape recorder.

She finished rewinding the tape, and clicked 'Play'.

"Mmm...muhh...Fey!"

Fey looked back at Toby with a very unnerving expression. "...No...it can't be..." she mumbled. "You can't...be here...and..."

"Wh-what are you talking about?"

"How d-did you get here? Why are you here? You're...you're talking, and...you're my...my..."

Toby didn't say anything. He started backing up; she was starting to scare him.

"...M-Matthew...MATTHEW!" she cried, charging forward and tackling Toby in a teary hug.

Fey had found her brother.

* * *

"No...no, no, no!" I cried, despondent. "Chaos, PLEASE! Everything's falling apart and I don't know what to do! I can't edit anything, all three stories are being derailed, and I don't know what to do!"

I heard the scraping of a chair behind me.

"Chaos, please! Help me!"

_click_

I freeze, and turn around.

Gun.

"...Chaos?"

_BANG_

Cameron teetered on his chair, before falling to the floor with a heavy thud. The gunshot echoed, rebuking my decision. I did it. I killed him.

"I'm...so...sorry...Cameron..."

This isn't worth it, Multikirby.

* * *

**Don't worry, Chaos. We're almost there...just a little longer and we'll be finished. Just hold on for a few more chapters; I'll try to end this quickly.**


	23. Backstory

**Break's over and I'm back at it! As should you! Back to work! Hyah! HYAH! *cracks** **whip***

**FON FAKT DID U NO: Perogies, breaded fish, and cooked vegetables are my favourite meal.**

* * *

"I...I don't know what to do..."

My voice wavered in sync with the smoking gun in my hand. I had just killed him. I had just killed Cameron. He was lying there dead on the ground. My throat was hurting, but I wasn't very sure why...I found myself looking at him, thinking in the back of my mind that if I willed it hard enough, maybe he'd get up and everything would be fine.

He didn't move.

And I froze.

_"Chaos, if I do actually die, can you continue the story for me?" Cameron asked._

_I felt as if I was going to be sick. "Cameron, please. I don't like thinking about you being gone. So stop talking about it."_

_"But will you?"_

_I squinted my eyes shut, wanting more than anything for this conversation to be over. "Yes, Cameron. If you die, I'll finish the trilogy. Now _please stop_."_

I had to finish the trilogy. All of them. All three. I had to.

Trudging over to Cameron's laptop, I slumped down in the chair. Out of curiosity, I checked his inbox. Names popped up. These were people that he was talking to.

He wouldn't be talking to them anymore.

Switching over to the Doc Manager, I stared at the screen for a long time. What should I do? I couldn't just...get started, could I...?

_"There we go! Finished!" Cameron exclaimed. I turned to see him leaning back contently from his laptop._

_I rested my arm on the back of my chair. "What did you do?"_

_Cameron turned to face me. "I finished the Bonus Chapter that reveals the truth about Cece. It's ready to be posted."_

_"You aren't going to post it, though, are you?" I asked doubtfully._

_Cameron scoffed. "Of course not! I wanted it done in advance so that I'd have a good idea of how to work up to it." He turned back to the laptop and began to read over the chapter. "If I posted it now it'd be a huge spoiler."_

There it was. In the Doc Manager.

BONUS: Backstory.

With a shaking hand, I entered the document, changed the chapter number to twenty-three, and submitted it to Fanfiction, barely noting the section made above the chapter depicting what I had done.

* * *

_**Window to the Past**_

_**BONUS CHAPTER: Backstory**_

Fey Choreman danced through the living room, singing a little song she made up about dinner. Her mother was making her favourite meal: perogies and breaded fish with cooked vegetables. She jumped up and down off the sofa and the coffee table, earning a frighteningly powerful scream about roughhousing around the furniture. Fey instantly stopped the jumping, but she still sang under her breath.

"Perogies and fishies on my plate, they are so yummy enough to satiate - Mom! What does satiate mean?" Fey stopped her dancing and turned to her mother who was currently in the kitchen across from the living room.

"It means something that makes you happy," she said in a hurried tone as she rushed back and forth in the kitchen. "Where did I put the flour again...?"

"Satiate! Satiate! Satiate!" Fey sang again, foregoing all of the other words she had used for this new one. Then she stopped again. "Mom!"

"Yes, dear?" her mother responded. "What is it?"

"I wanna help!"

Her mother breathed a sigh of relief. "Alright. Could you get a pot and boil it on the stove while I cut the vegetables?"

"Mmhmm!" Fey affirmed. She opened a cupboard, grabbed a large pot, and promptly waved in front of her mother's face. "'S this one good?"

"Yes, dear," her mother affirmed tiredly.

Fey smiled, walking over to the sink. "Yes, dear! Yes, dear!" she chanted as she turned on the hot tap and filled the pot. Fey continued to hum a cacophonous tune as the pot began to overflow.

"Not that full, Fey!" Her mother reached over Fey's shoulder and turned off the tap. "You'll never make it to the stove without spilling that. Only half full. It's a big pot."

"Okay!" Fey tilted the pot vertically, splashing some of the water on the counter. She leveled off when the pot had been emptied halfway. Forgetting about the spilled liquids, she put it on the stove and clicked the dial, just like Mom had shown her. The fire lit, and she put it on high. Her mother was beside her, cutting some carrots on a cutting board.

"What now? What now? I wanna eat!" Fey cheered, apparently a bit too loud for her mother's liking.

"Go downstairs and get the box of perogies from the freezer," her mother said with a wince. "I still need to find the flour." She put the knife down beside the pot and began to search the kitchen.

Fey skipped down the stairs, eager to dig into the perogies and fish her mother was making. "Should I get the fish, too, Mom?" she yelled up the stairs.

"Yes, thank you," came her mother's reply.

Fey ran down the hallway to the cellar, practically tearing the door off its hinges as she made a beeline to the fridge. This door got the same treatment as the cellar's as Fey's eyes hastily scanned the shelves for the elusive boxes.

"MOM, I CAN'T FIND THEM!" Fey screamed up the stairs.

"Are you looking in the fridge or the freezer?" her mother called down.

Fey looked at the appliance in front of her. It was the fridge. "I'M LOOKING IN THE FRIDGE!"

"They're in the freezer, dear!"

Fey slammed the fridge door shut and jumped to the side, lifting open the door to the freezer. She scanned the contents but still couldn't find those perogies.

"MOM, THEY AREN'T IN THE FREEZER EITHER!"

"Then go outside, they're in the shed."

"BUT MOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMM!" Fey protested.

She heard her mother sigh. "Fine, I'll do it."

Oh, no. If her mom did it, Fey would not hear the end of it. "NO, IT'S FINE!"

She raced up the stairs and put on her shoes. Thirty seconds later she was rummaging through the ancient freezer in the shed. Finally finding the boxes she had fought so hard for, her hands shot out like lightning and latched onto the boxes. Whipping around, she kicked the freezer door closed and charged into the shed door. She was repelled by the door, which had become stuck. Grunting in annoyance, Fey backed up and drove her shoulder into the door, only to fall to the ground. Fey growled and got to her feet, dusting herself off. She was about to fling herself at the door until she noticed the latch had fell. Unhooking the latch, she pushed the door open and walked back into the house.

The boxes hit the floor.

"MOOOOOOOOOMMMM!" Fey screamed.

There, on the counter, was her three-year-old brother, Matthew, face dunked in the pot of boiling water, neck skewered on the cutting knife.

* * *

Fey's empty eyes stared blankly at the hospital wall, looking over the cat poster for what felt like the millionth time. She tried desperately to convince herself that what had happened _hadn't_ happened, but it wasn't working. Her dad sat beside her, his head in his hands, mumbling inaudible prayers. Thinking it was a good idea, she began to do the same.

Currently, Matthew and Mother were in the emergency room, undergoing an operation. Fey's dad was extremely squeamish, and he wasn't able to take the sight of his son with his neck slashed open.

As it turned out, neither could Fey.

"Perogies and fishies on my plate..." she sang shakily, trying to comfort herself. "They are so yumm-mm-mmy enough t-to sati...satiate..."

She was interrupted by the sound of footsteps in front of her. A doctor stood in front of them, and she motioned for the two of them to join her. Fey felt as if she wasn't even in her own body as she followed her father down the stark hospital hallways.

"Why does it smell like dead people, Dad?" she asked, wrinkling her nose.

Her dad shook her head. "Not now, Fey, please."

Two double doors rose up in front of them. The doctor pushed them open, and held them for Fey and her father. She looked and saw her mother by the operation table, her face red. She was dabbing her eyes, and her breath was broken.

"...How is he?" Dad asked.

Fey's mom nodded. "He's alive...but..."

"B-but?" Fey piped up before she realized what she had said.

"Honey, you might not want to be here for this," her mother told her.

Fey stamped her foot down. "No! What happened?"

Her mother looked as if she was going to argue, but her state got the better of her. "Your brother's fine, but...he's going to look different."

"Wh-what?"

The doctor stepped up. "He has very severe third-degree burns in the facial area, especially in the oral region. Which...comes with its own set of effects..."

Fey managed to tune the doctor out and ran up to the operating table. She looked down at her baby brother. Covering her mouth, Fey tried to withhold a scream.

His face was completely distorted. His skin was burned nearly black, his face white and leathery, with strange bumps and holes littered around the area.

"Oh..." Fey whispered. "What...is he okay?"

"He's alive," the doctor confirmed. "And he'll stay alive. But as I said, the burns have...well..."

"What?" Fey's dad asked. "What did they do to him?"

"His oral area received the worst burns since it was touching the metal of the pot, and..."

"What did it do!?" he practically yelled.

"He's mute. He will never speak again."

* * *

"Fey, can you get your brother, please?" Fey's mother asked. "We need to talk about something. Where is he?"

"He's in his room," Fey said. "I'll get him."

Fey got up from the living room and turned around, going down the hallway. She stopped at her brother's closed door. She knocked on it twice. "Matthew? Mom wants to talk to us. We're in the kitchen."

She stayed at the door until she heard footsteps, then walked back to the kitchen. Fey sat down across from her mother at the table and waited for Matthew. Fey traced circles on the table with her finger uncomfortably. She looked across the table at her mother. Her eyes were sunken, her expression sullen and somber. She had rested her head in her hands, and that structure threatened to crumble into an unstable cry session at any moment. Fey didn't like seeing her mother cry, but she couldn't really blame her. Dad had been in the hospital for a very long time now. That, more than anything, was probably what this was about.

"Could you get your brother, Fey?" her mother asked again.

"I already did," Fey said quietly. "But I don't know whether he's coming or not. He probably ignored me."

The end of her sentence was accented by the slam of a door.

Oh boy. He'd heard.

And he'd probably be in a sour mood for the rest of the afternoon. Great.

Matthew walked down the hallway with his eyes low and his journal under his arm. He slumped down on the seat beside Fey, shooting her a dirty look.

"Look, I'm sorry, okay?"

Matthew frowned, then opened his journal and began to write. He picked up the book and held it up to Fey's face.

_you just didn't know I was listening_

"Well, no, I didn't," Fey admitted. "But-"

"Please, stop," their mother begged. "I have some...some news for you."

Fey closed her mouth and gave Matthew a pointed glare after he showed her some choice words from the journal that he had prepared from past arguments. "What is it?"

"Your father, he's been in the hospital for a long time now, and..." Their mom dabbed at her eyes with her hands, trying to hold back tears.

Matthew wrote something and held it up to Mom. She shook her head.

"No, he isn't dead," she said. "He's...he's got ALS."

Fey stared at her mother, confused. "What's that?"

"It's a terrible...terrible disease that...that..." her mother tried to explain, but she couldn't take it. She began to fan her face as more tears came, and with a mumbled apology, she retired to her room.

Fey watched her go sadly. By that reaction, ALS wasn't anything good. She felt a tap on her shoulder and turned around. She saw Matthew holding the journal up. The left side of his mouth was curled into a frown.

_google_

Fey resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She had seen that specific page quite a few times, and Matthew used it so much he had dogeared it.

"Alright, fine, but we're probably going to get some weird Wikipedia page with medical lingo I don't understand."

_I don't care_

This was the page she'd seen more than any other. With a heavy sigh of resignation, she and Matthew walked to their dad's office, and Fey sat down in the large swirly chair. After a bit of gratuitous spinning, she rested her hands on the keyboard. Opening the browser, she typed 'als' into the address bar. Then she frowned. It wasn't working. She felt another shoulder tap.

_google_

"What? I know, I'm trying to-"

Matthew pointed at the word again. Fey didn't get it. Matthew slapped her shoulder and took his pen.

"Mom told you not to hit," Fey reminded him caustically as she rubbed her shoulder.

_ you idiot._

Fey stared at the page blankly, then back at the computer.

"Oh."

She navigated to the Google website, then typed 'als' in the search bar. Pressing enter, she looked at the results.

"See? I told you. Wikipedia."

Matthew wouldn't have it. He jerked his head at the computer again, telling her to keep looking. Huffing, she scrolled down the page to a dedicated web site. Clicking on the link, she began to read.

And she didn't like what she saw.

* * *

Matthew stared at the floor of his room, holding back tears. He listened to his mother talking to the police on the phone, frantically describing what Fey looks like. It had been two months since he found out his father had ALS. And Fey hadn't come home from school in three days. Matthew drew absent circles in his journal. He wanted to ask his mother, but he was afraid to. With her juggling Dad's sickness, Fey's disappearance, and his disability, she didn't need _another_ issue on top of it. And yet...he felt as if something was wrong. Even before he went to his mom to ask about something.

He heard a knock on his door. His mother carefully walked into his room, trying to avoid his gaze. "Matthew, I need to talk to you."

Setting his journal down on the bed, Matthew prepared for whatever she was going to talk to him about. Contorting his face hurt a bit, but he wanted to be sure his mom understood he was not going to enjoy this conversation.

"Yes, I know," his mother sighed. "It's usually bad news, but..." Her shoulders slumped and she hung her head. "Look, Matthew, I'm going through a lot right now, and I need you to try to keep your chin up for me...Fey's missing, and...I need your support, okay?"

Matthew simply stared at her, trying his best not to change his facial expression of general disappointment.

"I need you to go to public school."

Instantly the journal was in his hands and he was writing rather angry words.

_no you're insane. I'm going to be killed_

"Don't be melodramatic! You're not going to die, Matthew. I'm sure you'll be fine."

Matthew flipped through his journal, looking for another dog-eared page.

_WHY._

"Your father can't work; he's hospitalized. And the money we're getting is barely enough to cover your dad's bills. I'm already working a few jobs, but the supplies I need to homeschool you are too expensive. Public schooling is covered with our plan."

Matthew shook his head and crossed his arms. He flipped through the book and held up another page.

_No._

"Please, Matthew, I need you to cooperate with me on this!" his mother pleaded. "I can't handle all this pressure! Please!"

Matthew was about to show her the same message, but her tone caught him off guard. She seemed vulnerable. And Matthew finally took a moment to look at his mother.

It was obvious she had been crying for at least the past few days. It was bad for him, understandably. His father was dying and his sister was missing. But to his mother...her husband was dying, her daughter was missing, and her son was disabled. Matthew took a deep breath. He picked up the pen, picked up the journal, and began to write a word.

_Fine._

* * *

Matthew came home from school, trying to cover up the bruises on his arms with his long winter coat. He didn't want his mother to worry. Dad's condition was worsening, and so was Mom's. She didn't need to know what was happening at school.

"Hello, Matthew," she called from the kitchen. "How was your day?"

Matthew nodded absently, making a path straight to the bathroom to clean up the blood that was seeping through his cracked skin.

He wasn't getting beat up. Nothing that extreme. To the people doing it, anyways. They were simply playing a bit rough. But to Matthew, 'a bit rough' meant bruises, opening healing scars, and not being able to tell them to stop. Multiple times, he had tried to show them a few choice words from his book, but he never got the chance. Did they really want to hurt him? Matthew didn't know. But the fact was that they _were_, and Mom didn't need to worry about it.

Matthew stared into the bathroom mirror, dabbing at his leathery face. The blood wasn't running down his face, which was good. It was simply seeping into the cracks. Nothing too painful today; a simple wet cloth would clean it up nicely. The bruises, though, were another problem. Matthew had tried using his mother's cover-up, but it came off much too easily. The quick-fix solution left him with a nice awkward explanation as to why his arms were purple over dinner. He opted instead to wear long-sleeved shirts as often as possible.

Satisfied with how he looked, Matthew was about to open the door to the bathroom again when he felt a twinge at the back of his neck. Bringing his hand to the small spot of pain, he felt something wet. His hand came back red. Silently cursing those kids at school, Matthew tried twisting his neck in the mirror so he could see exactly how bad the wound was. He remembered something about a basketball making contact with that part of him. Grunting in frustration, Matthew grabbed a small mirror from the counter and used that. He was pleased to see the wound wasn't that big, so if he bandaged it, he could sweep his hair over the majority of it. Hopefully, it would heal by the time he got his hair cut.

"Matthew? Are you alright?" his mother asked, knocking on the door. Hurriedly, Matthew knocked twice, signaling he was fine. Once again content with his appearance, he unlocked the door and gave his mother a small smile.

It was the little things Matthew needed to do to make sure his mother didn't know that he was dying on the inside.

* * *

The orange sky began to give way to the inky blackness of the night. No stars were out, nor the moon. No, not yet. The sun still had ample time to hide its radiant face from the face of the earth before its younger sibling filled the horizon. A chilly evening breeze blew past Matthew, brushing uncomfortably against his burn. He tried to resist, but he winced. This caused his skin to grind together, which caused quite an annoying twinge of pain. Matthew wasn't allowed to use any expression. Well, he was, but it just kind of hurt.

The twilight air felt unnatural to Matthew. He had never been out this late. The streetlights lining the sides of the path cut through the darkness with a rather eerie halo of yellow-orange light. The cold dirt crunched loudly under his feet as he walked through the park. He looked to the left of the path up ahead and saw someone sleeping on a park bench. With his heart shooting up into his throat, he jumped off the path into the damp grass and hid behind a tree. Then he realized that it was a woman, and she was sleeping. This didn't change his opinion of the mystery person much, as he knew firsthand exactly how much harm a woman can do. Opting to stay out of the spotlight the lamps cast, Matthew snuck past the woman as quietly as he could manage before continuing on his way.

He began to hear the rushing of water, telling him he was getting close. Beyond a small group of dark trees was a large concrete bridge, tinted a gamboge hue by the flickering bulbs buzzing loudly above it. The buzzing, though present, was largely drowned out by the sound of the rumbling rapids beneath the overpass.

Why had Matthew come here? Simple. He had been asked. Specifically, by his peers.

Normally, being asked to go under a bridge at twilight to meet the people who relentlessly bullied you would raise quite a few red flags for Matthew. He was no idiot. But his father's condition was worsening. The doctor gave him one more month before expiring. This, along with the fact that they hadn't found Fey in three years has been weighing on his mother, and Matthew had been struggling for a long time to keep the fact that he was being 'bullied' a secret. She didn't need to know about it.

But was he being bullied, really? Matthew wasn't sure, when he tried to take a good sober look at it. They were just having a bit of childish fun, right? Maybe they didn't realize how much they were hurting him. Maybe they thought he was kidding when he told them it hurt. After all, to them, it was merely pokes and prods. To him, they were more like hot pokers and cattle prods. But the point remained that maybe they didn't _mean _it. Matthew realized this might be a bit naive to think about them suddenly apologizing for something they didn't think they were even doing in the first place, but he just wanted it to end. So when he heard about the ringleader inviting him here to apologize, Matthew chose to disregard the fact that he had specifically stated that he should come at night. He chose to ignore the issue of being on a dimly lit bridge. He chose to forget about the fact that this literally never happens.

On second thought, maybe this wasn't really a sober look at all.

He heard someone call his name, and he looked down over the bridge at the riverbank. There they were, waving up at him. Well...they seemed sincere enough. Maybe they _did_ mean well. They were asking for him to come down there. Matthew decided to comply.

Five minutes later he was on the ground with a bleeding wound on his right side. People were yelling at him, their breath smelling of alcohol...and worse. He trembled on the ground, unable to understand what he had done to them to deserve something like this. A vision in his head flashed by; his face on a slip of paper stapled to a phone pole. He wanted to scream, cry, protest, apologize, yell...anything to save himself from these drunk savages...

Then he was kicked into the river.

* * *

Miles was a bit of an enigma. He was a drifter, having no set place to call home. He did have an occupation, but if you were to ask him, he wouldn't be able to tell you very much beyond a small boring synopsis. As he took a small break from his job to take a walk down a riverbank, he expected a set amount of things to happen. He expected his head to be cleared by the night air. He expected the scenery to be at least _slightly_ breathtaking due to the water and the light interacting with each other. He expected it wouldn't take that long.

He didn't expect to see a young, disfigured boy wash up on the riverbank. Dialling for emergency, he held his phone to his face as he dragged the boy out of the water, wincing at the apparent stab wound on his right side, and the...state...of his face. Miles didn't know CPR. He didn't know how to implement artificial respiration. All he could do was hope the ambulance got here soon.

The boy's eyes opened. Only for a second or two, but that was all it took. Their eyes met. Miles saw something familiar in those eyes...something he couldn't place. Something he felt he needed to know. The boy saw something, too. But he didn't have the luxury of time to figure out what that thing was. He fell unconscious just as the distant sound of sirens filled the quiet evening air.

* * *

Fey didn't want to wake up. She knew she had to, but she didn't want to. Whatever she was lying on felt pretty good. It was soft...and warm...and grainy...

Grainy?

Fey shot up in shock. She was on a beach. Was this a dream? She moved her hand to pinch herself on instinct. There was a problem, though. At the current moment, she didn't have hands. When she moved them into her view, all she saw were two strange blue bumps that moved at her command. She moved to stand up. Curiously, when she got to her feet, she didn't seem to be that much taller than she was when she was lying down. She moved to a small pool in the sand to get a better look at herself.

And she screamed.


	24. Wyvern is Deception

**So some of you might be thinking that the authors notes and stuff are getting kind of weird. So I'll try to keep them as normal as I can. It's just...the other stories kind of...went off the rails for a bit there, too. But they're back on track now, as is this one. In other news, I was voted the best author ever to exist on FanFiction and the world by myself. Yay me! Autographs start here, if you can find out exactly where 'here' is. I'm stalling.**

* * *

_**Window to the Past**_

_**Chapter 24: Wyvern is Deception**_

Fey's tears were pressed into Mia's back. She felt empty. All she had heard was the word 'Matthew' and suddenly everything came back. It was Mia who had climbed up onto the counter at three years old and lost the ability to speak. It was Mia's father who was dying on a hospital bed. It was Mia who had shielded her mother from the knowledge of the torture she was put through at school. It was Mia's sister who had disappeared three years ago. It was Mia who nearly drowned in that river. It was Mia. It was Toby, Alice, Daphne, David, Adrian, Mabel and Tristan. They were Matthew Choreman.

And she wasn't real. She was a defense mechanism. An invention. Matthew was a boy. She wasn't. Mia was fake.

But she couldn't be, right? She was real. She felt real. So she had to be real. Fey must be mistaken.

"Wait, Matthew? Who's Matthew?" Mia asked, letting Fey go.

Fey gave her a confused expression, before fumbling to explain her feelings. "Your voice...This tape was the only tie I've had to my family since I came here...I've always fantasized and thought about what you'd sound like if you could talk, and...you sound..._exactly_...like I'd thought you would..." She looked down at the ground, embarrassed. "I'd had an inkling that you might be...but I guess I let it get away from me."

Mia felt terrible. Watching the hope die in Fey's eyes was one of the most torturous things she had ever been put through. But Fey couldn't have these delusions. She couldn't be lied to. But these memories...Mia would have to see for herself what they meant. "Who's Matthew?"

Fey sat down on a chair sadly. "He's my brother. He lost his voice when he was three from a really bad cooking accident. That recording is the only time I remember him talking. But he was homeschooled for a long time. We didn't want him getting bullied. We found out our dad had a really bad illness, and we tried to stick close to keep our mom from worrying. And then...I disappeared. I came here. I washed up on the far west shore. And I've been here for three years. When I met you...and found out that you'd just...'dropped in'...I got my hopes up. But what are the odds that you're my brother anyway?"

_Lost voice...check,_ Mia thought, flustered. _Cooking accident...check. Third-degree burns...check. Bullied. Dad with sickness. Fey disappeared three years ago. Check. Check. Check._

Fey sighed. "I mean...he's human."

_Oh my God. _Mia felt like she was going to cry. _She's right._

"You're right," she whispered.

Fey looked up at her. "Huh?"

"I...I am Matthew, I think," she said, resigned. Tears began to fall from her eyes as Mia accepted it. She was fake. She didn't matter. Nothing she had done had ever mattered. "I'm not Mia. I'm Matthew."

Fey looked like she was going to cry again, but for a markedly different reason than Mia. Again she got up, and again she and Mia hugged.

_No,_ she thought bitterly. _Not Mia. Matthew. I'm not Mia anymore. There is no Mia._

There was no Mia. There is no Mia.

Mia does not exist.

There is only Matthew.

* * *

Chaos took his hands away from the laptop. He didn't even realize what he had just written. It had just occurred to him. It had just felt natural.

It had felt...right.

But this was _Cameron's _story, not his! Did he have the right to do that?

He looked at Cameron's body, limp on the ground. Did he have the right to do _that?_ No. But he did it anyways.

Chaos sighed. He had made a promise to Cameron to finish the story. But what exactly did finishing the story mean?

* * *

Adrian was thrust forward. The first thing he perceived was that he was embracing his sister. This took him quite a bit by surprise. He pushed away from Fey. She gave a surprised cry, and Adrian muttered an apology.

"Sorry, just adjusting to this revelation thing now," he said in a low voice.

Fey gave him a strange look, before donning one of recognition. "Oh. Right. The personality thing. I..." She cracked a smile. "I almost forgot about that. Sorry, Tristan."

Adrian gave her an unimpressed look. "No."

Fey brought her head back. "Oh. Um...Alice?"

"Don't insult me!" Adrian said with a scowl and a small laugh.

"Ah, I've got it now!" Fey said, her smile widening. "You're Adrian!"

"About time," he said with a smirk. "Though...I guess it's Matthew now. Matthew," he said slowly, testing out the name. He frowned. "Name sucks. I like mine better. Alright, I'm going to go back to my room. I need to sort all this crap out," he excused himself as he rushed into his room and removed his diary from the sack. He pulled the pen out of the spine and began to write.

* * *

"I'm not crazy, right? Fey's our sister? Burns? Not being able to speak and everything like that? That's all real? And does anyone else feel like somebody's missing? Like when Daphne turned tail? Ah, look at me; asking questions like a f...shmeckin' idiot. Seriously, though. All this stuff. Did everybody get that? Because if not, I call dibs at being leader."

"My dreams!" David wrote excitedly. "That's what they are! The dreams and the drawings're all the human stuff that happened to us! The river, the cooking thing, the bullies, all of them! I KNEW we weren't puffballs for that stuff! And we're Matthew! I like that name!"

"I can think of at least two people who don't," Daphne wrote caustically. "Mia just went and killed herself."

"What?! Why?!" Toby exclaimed. "What did you do to her!? Was it something we did? Was it something I said?"

"No," Tristan cut in. "It wasn't you, Toby. It was the fact that we are officially male now."

"...I don't get it," David wrote.

Tristan began to explain. "We've been struggling over who's real and who isn't. Now that we know we're male, Alice, Mia, Daphne, and Mabel are guaranteed to be fake. Apparently, Mia didn't take it very well and killed herself. Perhaps Alice did too. I haven't seen her."

"No, I'm here," Alice wrote with a frown. "Though you seem really nonchalant that part of you just died. I'm just sticking around because of what Mabel said. Even if I'm not real, I'm still a part of this body."

"Eh, she's just being dramatic," Adrian scoffed. "She'll probably come back later. Like Daphne, except without a vendetta."

"Again, you're kind of just passing over the fact that she wants to kill us," Tristan said.

"She doesn't want too kill us, right?" David asked. "She's a part of us, right? So she'd be killing herself if she killed us, and that's dumb."

"That's the beauty of it, David," Daphne concluded. "Two birds with one stone."

"Don't listen to her, we'll be fine," Alice tried to hastily comfort him.

"You guys are all drama queens. I'm fine," Mia wrote. "Well...I'm alive. I'm far from fine."

* * *

Fey, in the meantime, was left to cope with her feelings. After three years, she had finally found her brother. And yet...she couldn't stop her mind from wandering elsewhere.

As she waited for Matthew to finish writing in his journal, Fey paced the room. As she had waited for the surgery, she had memorized every square inch of this waiting room. The third chair from the left had a slash across it from when Michael got a bit too rowdy waiting for a transplant. There was a scorch mark on the wall from Paula's bombs when she had been testing out her new ones that were engineered to explode when touching anything but her skin. There was a small crater on the ground from...something about Marco. She couldn't remember what.

_All these names..._Fey thought to herself. _Where did they all go? It's almost as if-_

Was that a scream? Without thinking, she rushed into Matthew's room. "Are you alright?" she practically yelled.

Matthew blinked and looked up from his diary. "Huh?"

"Oh, sorry," Fey said apologetically. She closed the door again, and her frown deepened. What was that? She could've sworn someone had said something there.

Her eyes drifted to the only door she didn't know the contents of. The door to the basement.

_No! I can't! Liz is my..._Fey searched for the right word. 'Friend'? No, not really..._My friend's friend!_

_But I want to know what's in there..._

_It's an invasion of privacy!_

_What about that scream? Can I just leave them there in distress?_

Fey squinted her eyes shut, unable to make up her mind. Fortunately, she didn't have to.

"Fey? What are you doing here?" Liz asked as she pushed the door open. "Of course, I was looking for you, so this is convenient, but why are you in the clinic?"

"I wanted to see M-" Fey choked on her own words. How much does Liz know about him again...? "Cece. I wanted to show him that I can hear stuff now."

Liz shot her a confused look as she went to her office. "Cece and you are friends? I suppose you did fight Tac but is that really...Well, that's none of my concern. Oh, erm, Fey?" She stopped short of walking into her office.

"Yeah?"

"Since Cece and you know each other, I was wondering if you could tell me if he has any outstanding illnesses or disabilities, physical or otherwise."

"Uhhh..." Fey stalled. Should she tell Liz about Matthew's problem? Liz was calling him Cece, but did that mean she knew, or she didn't? Fey decided to play dumb. "Hold on a second," she said as she walked over to Matthew's door. "Hey, Mmm...Cece? Do you have any outstanding illnesses or disabilities, mental or-"

"Physical," Liz corrected in a quiet voice.

"Right," Fey acknowledged. "_Physical_ or otherwise?"

"Who wants to know?" his voice came from inside.

Fey looked over to Liz, who shook her head, telling Fey not to mention her.

"Just curious," Fey said, cringing when she heard the faint sound of Liz's utter disapproval. Namely, a disappointed sigh. "So, do-"

"No."

"A-alright, then," she finished, turning to Liz and giving a shrug.

Liz nodded. "I'm going out on the field for a bit," she said as she grabbed a few books and put them in a bag. "Don't stay here too long."

"Alright. Cece and I were just about to go to Linden to ask about-"

"Don't go to Linden," Liz stressed suddenly, catching Fey off guard.

Fey gave her a look. "What? Why?"

Liz looked Fey right in the eyes and refused to break eye contact. "He's psychotic."

* * *

Mia stared at Matthew's journal and heaved a sigh. This wasn't her journal. Could she write in it? Well...they had to know.

"You guys are all drama queens," she wrote. "I'm fine."

Chewing on the pen, Mia frowned. _Nope. That's wrong._

"Well...I'm alive. I'm far from fine."

Again, Mia leaned back from the page. She wanted to leave it like that, but she had to get more off her chest. Otherwise, she'd end up like...Daphne.

"I say that because I just found out that I don't exist. I don't really have a name anymore. I mean...Matthew was a boy. That means that us girls are ruled out for sure. We're just made up imaginary friends because one of you boys got bullied too much. I'm fake. It feels weird to write that, like I'm in denial. But I can't be alive. Don't worry, I'm not going to kill myself or anything. I'm not angry. I'm just"

Mia paused, staring at the page. She rested on the table and tried to sort her thoughts out. That's what this was about, right? Sorting her thoughts out. That was the entire point of the journal.

And what about her thoughts, anyways? Were they really even that?

_I should've seen this coming,_ she thought. _I was...a character, really. A character from a cute little story. Just a flat character with one or two quirks. I talk a lot. That's basically it. That's my quirk. I'm a chatter box. I even sound like some stupid twelve-year-old made me up. I'm not real._

She picked up the pen and began to write.

"I'm just kind of discouraged. Though I sort of knew in the back of my mind I wasn't real anyways. It's just a bit of a shocker to finally find it out, you know? I just feel like I'm kind of...useless now. I mean, what have I even really done since I've been here? Be friendly? Is that really very useful?"

"Dissociative Identity Disorder is a coping mechanism," Mabel wrote almost immediately. "If you were never needed, you wouldn't have been created in the first place."

"And honestly, what have any of us done since we've been here?" Alice asked. "...I mean, what have any of us done that's helped us find our family? Fey just kind of came out of nowhere."

"I normally would not care less about whether you left or not," Tristan continued. "But judging from Daphne, I think I'd be better off if you didn't."

"Nah, you can't get rid of me that easily," Mia said. "I'll be fine. It's a pretty big change, but I'll be fine."

Mia stared down at the page, trying to convince herself that what she was writing was how she felt.

* * *

Cameron woke up in a familiar white space. He rubbed his head; he must have bumped it when he fell.

"Chaos?" he asked, looking around. This place was painfully empty, and the whiteness went on forever. "Chaos, are you here?"

But Chaos wasn't there. Nobody was there.

"Hellooo?"

* * *

"Linden can't be a psychopath! He's so polite!" Fey protested. "I mean...he's kind of freaky, yeah, but it doesn't mean he's out in left field!"

"I didn't say he was a psychopath," Liz corrected. "I said he was psychotic. That means he suffers from some sort of psychosis. Psychopathy is something much more specific...though I believe he might suffer from that, too. Psychopathy is a constant display of extremely antisocial behaviour, along with a lack of empathy or moral judgment."

"So you're saying that Linden has a constant...display of...what you said?" Fey asked. "I don't know, he sounds pretty social to me."

"You know the Copy Ability he has and what it lets him do, right?"

"Copy, and yeah, I know what it does-"

"No you don't."

"Oh."

Liz sighed. "It gives him comprehension, yes. But he has probably told you that it takes him some time before he can fully understand something. Has he told you this?"

Fey nodded. "Yeah, he demonstrated it, actually."

"It's a lie. He understands everything instantaneously. And it isn't just written works, either. Living things, too."

"Wait, you mean-"

"That's not even the worst part," Liz said darkly. "When he has that headgear on...he can't control it. With the Copy Ability engaged, he receives a nonstop onslaught of information from absolutely everything around him. This, coupled with the Copy's side effect...you know what it is, don't you?"

"Yeah," Fey said, her voice shaking as she began to catch on to what Liz was saying. "You lose the ability to forget."

"His brain isn't big enough to hold all that information," Liz finished. "Stay away from him. I'll see you later, Fey. I need to perform a follow-up operation to make sure there are no...well, side effects from the surgery."

"Alright," Fey agreed, before remembering something. "Wait, no, that won't-"

But Liz was already out the door. Fey huffed in annoyance. She'd have to talk to Liz about it later. Instead, she approached the door that Matthew had disappeared behind. Just as she was about to knock, however, Matthew walked out with red eyes and a peaceful expression.

"Hey," he said. Or she...Fey shook her head. All this multiple personality business always threw her off. How was he supposed to tell who Matthew was from just a 'hey'?

"Hi," she said, deciding to dance around what name she'd use for now. "Um...we've got to go to Linden's for a while. I have something I want to ask you."

* * *

Chaos took a break from typing. He looked again at the limp body of Cameron. He began to lose remorse. Yeah, it was wrong of him to shoot him. But he couldn't _un_shoot him, right? What was done was done. There wasn't anything he could do about it.

Chaos's gaze drifted from the corpse to the gun on the table. He picked up the gun and turned it in his hands. Was it just him, or did the gun still feel warm? He gently nudged the trigger, feeling the springs coil under his finger. And there, in that feeling, was the twinge of regret he was looking for.

The twinge of humanity.

He was still sane. Right?

Finally, he looked back at the story. Liz talking about Linden being psychotic...it struck a nerve. It was like the characters were having this conversation themselves, rather than being directly influenced by an outside force.

Cameron had always said that was what he had wanted with his stories.

_Window to the Past_ was in good hands.

* * *

Memories were starting to come back to him now. The gun. The story going out of control. Chaos. Cameron sat down on the white ground and put his chin in his hands.

_Why Chaos?_ he asked himself. _Why would he do this? Was...he jealous?_

Cameron raised his right hand to touch the place where Chaos had shot him. It was smooth with no sign of an injury there. What did that mean? Was he dead? No...he couldn't be. He couldn't really explain why, but Cameron was pretty sure he wasn't dead.

* * *

Wyvern was mercifully less cold than it usually was. Mia hated the cold. She and Fey walked alongside the commercial avenue of Wyvern. Again, the street was eerily empty, with almost literally nobody other than the two siblings outside.

"So, Fey, what did you want to ask me?"

"Well, you know how I told you that I've been spending these past three years looking for a way back home?" Fey asked.

Mia nodded. "Yeah. I'm guessing the question has something to do with that. Though," Mia laughed a bit. "That's kind of obvious, isn't it? You know, I feel like I do that a lot. I try to act smart by guessing something obvious. It doesn't usually work, though. Looking smart, I mean."

Fey blinked, then continued. "Y-yeah. Um, anyways, I've been looking across this continent for..."

Mia, if only for a few seconds, tuned Fey out. She had done it. She'd lived up to her character name. She'd talked too much. Mia wanted to slap herself in the face, to reprimand herself for being so predictable and flat, but...could she? After all, she _was_ predictable and flat. She was _supposed _to be predictable and flat. She's only one-eighth of a complete person. Maybe less.

"...and so I've decided I'm going to go north, to the continent Corfort. And...I want you to come with me," Fey finished, looking over at Mia.

"What? Why?" Mia was caught off guard, lost in her own thoughts. She wanted to scold herself for getting caught in her stereotype again, but that would lead into a loop, so she decided to save the punishment for later.

Fey seemed a bit surprised by her reaction. "I mean, you're my br...my, um...sibling. I'm not about to leave you here to fend for yourself. Unless you want to give me the...uh...cold shoulder. Y'know. By staying in Wyvern...but...Corfort's colder than Wyvern. And...does cold shoulder even work...? We don't have shoulders...dang it, I flubbed it up again!"

"Sure, I'll go with you," Mia said, disregarding Fey's failed pun. "You're right. We are siblings. Who knows, maybe we can only go back when we're together."

Fey smiled and nodded. "Alright, it's settled, then. That's why we're going to the library. I want to get an atlas so we can read up on Corfort and see if there's anything way up there that could help us."

"And then we'll be home atlas!"

Fey stopped on the sidewalk and began to whisper to herself. Mia turned around, concerned.

"Atlas...atlas...at last...Oh my God, I'm an idiot! How could I have missed that?!"

Mia laughed out loud, and she felt happy.

* * *

Fey, living in Wyvern for two and a half years, was used to the cold. But that wasn't to say that the translation of temperature into the library wasn't leaps forward in levels of comfort.

Linden stepped forward to greet them. "Ah, hello, Fey. And...Miss Alice, it's good to see you again."

Fey didn't know much about Matthew's personality business, but she was pretty sure Mia was out right now. Nonetheless, Matthew stuck...her...stub out and shook with Linden.

It was at this moment Fey noticed Linden was wearing his headgear. This wasn't unusual; he said he liked wearing it when he wanted to get some reading done. But in light of what Liz had told her...that headgear seemed a lot less innocent.

"What can I help the two of you with today?" he asked as he began to walk towards the non-fiction section.

"Could we get an atlas of Corfort, please?" Fey asked.

"We have two selections. We have one for the layman, with all the details you'd need to know for a simple trip," Linden said, looking over the shelves. "We also have another that is incredibly in depth, incredibly comprehensive, and it's quite...large."

"We'll take that one," Fey confirmed, "if that's okay."

"Ah, well..." Linden gave a polite smile, before looking up at a chest on the shelf behind him. "I apologize, miss, but I must ask you to retrieve it yourself."

"It's in there?" Matthew asked. "In that box?"

Linden laughed. "No, that box _is_ the atlas."

"Ah," Fey said simply, the colour draining from her face. "Well. Ma...Alice. Could you get it, please?"

"What? Why me?"

Fey was pretty sure it was Mia out, but she had to be careful of what she called her. She looked up at the atlas again and sighed. "Fine. Get me a chair and hold it steady.

Five minutes later, Fey was trying to keep her lungs inside her body as she teetered on the top of the chair. The atlas was resting precariously on top of her head, and she was stumbling, trying to keep her balance. Finally, she regained it. Fey began to step down from the chair, and with a lot of effort, prevented herself from being crushed by the heavy book.

She threw it on a nearby table with a heavy _thunk. _Dust spewed from the underside of the atlas, suggesting nobody had been using it for a while.

"F-Fey!" Mia looked at Fey with wide eyes.

_Wait...that isn't Mia, _Fey thought, slightly annoyed. _How am I going to get used to this? And...which one of them is my brother?_

Fey tried to hide this new question from the new personality that popped up. "You switched, didn't you?"

Matthew gave a very small nod. "I-I guess. Toby. Um...what are we doing?"

Gesturing to the book in front of her, Fey explained. "We're going to go north to Corfort together and try to find a way back home. We need to look for places that have legends, or mysterious stuff, or anything of that ilk."

"A-alright," said Toby. "Just give me a second, I don't want anyone else getting lost." He took out his journal and began to write in it.

Fey watched him. It was just like how he used to write in his journal when he wanted to speak. Even though Matthew was a puffball now, the same motions went into it. The same concentrated expression, the same way his pen moved, everything was the same. She was looking at her brother.

But then the personalities switched, and whoever this was began writing again. Fey gaped. They had the exact same method! Somehow, this was a different person, yet they used all the same mannerisms as her brother! How was she supposed to tell?

Matthew looked over at her, and Fey realized he must have caught on to her watching. She quickly turned around and began to read the atlas.

_Which one is Matthew? Is it Tristan? Adrian? Toby? David? Could it be one of the girls? I..._

_I don't recognize any of them._

Fey sat back in her chair. It was true. Until she actually _heard _Matthew's voice, she had had no idea that this orange puffball with the messed up mind was her brother. She should've been able to tell. She had spent twelve odd years with him; she knew how he worded his sentences and carried himself. So why were all of these personalities so foreign? None of them had struck a chord with her when they were taking down Tac. None of them had rung a bell when they met for the first time in Wyvern.

She gave a sideways glance to the puffball writing furiously beside her. Who _was_ he?

"Okay, finished," Matthew closed the diary. He looked over at Fey, seemed to remember something, and spoke. "Alice. I'm Alice."

Fey gave a small nod, trying to hide the blush that resulted from mistaking Alice's gender. She didn't even know the gender.

"...Alright, this city's motto is 'bathed in history'. Do you think that's a lead?"

"...There's a natural monument of rocks here that natives thought was sacred..."

"...Third night of the third moon? What does that mean...?"

"...I think I read the word 'portal'!...Wait. No. That's 'orchard', not 'portal'..."

"...What are we even looking for, anyways? A portal? A bottomless pit?..."

Their conversation went on for what felt like hours as they pored over the atlas, inspecting every page for something resembling a clue.

"Ah! Here!" Fey pointed at a city near the southeast corner. "This city. Yvolial. It says it has catacombs beneath it that are closely related to supernatural goings-on."

"How does that help?" Alice asked.

Fey smiled, and pointed to a single word describing the supernatural goings-on.

'Interdimensional'.


	25. Linden's Lantern

**...So. Anyone figure out where 'here' is? Because if you have, I'm scared. You aren't supposed to find out where 'here' is nor are you supposed to be able to get 'here'. These quotation marks are annoying. Or are they called apostrophes when there's only one of them? I'm stalling.**

* * *

_**Window to the Past**_

_**Chapter 25: Linden's Lantern**_

"Inter-dimensional?" Alice asked. "You think we're from another _dimension_? Isn't that going a bit too far?

"I'll explain," Fey told her. "You've been traveling around here. You've been to Wayford, right?"

Alice nodded.

"Okay, so you know that there are more than one intelligent species on this planet. Ya know, Waddle Dees, Waddle Doos, humans, puffballs, Bonkers, Scarfies..."

"I don't know what most of those are, but...I think I know what you're talking about, yeah."

"I want you to think back to where we came from," Fey said, a smile coming to her face. "How many intelligent species are there?"

Alice squinted her eyes shut and tried to think. "Humans. I know them. So there's humans, there's...um...dogs?"

"Dogs aren't intelligent."

"Our neighbour had one and it was pretty smart."

"Not the intelligent I'm thinking of."

"Um...no." Alice's eyes opened, and she looked at Fey in confusion. "No other intelligent species."

"Exactly my point. Even on this planet, wherever it is, there is not one place here that doesn't have more than one. But Earth-"

Something occurred to Alice, and she interrupted. "Hold on a second. What if we're in the same dimension, but Earth is just another planet in it? We wouldn't need to cross dimensions then."

Fey frowned. "Huh. Hadn't thought of that."

"Not possible," a voice came from behind them, making them both jump. They turned around and saw Linden. "If Acoa and Earth are in the same dimension, how could you two have gotten here, hm? However, if they are from different dimensions...you could simply jump from one to another. Perhaps Earth is simply an alternate version of Acoa."

"How long have you been standing there?" Fey asked shakily as she got up from the chair.

Linden smiled good-naturedly. "Not too long," he said softly as he pulled his headgear tighter over himself. "Though it doesn't really matter how long I've been here, does it, Ms. Choreman?"

"With that thing, I guess not," Fey said, a small smile returning to her face as she sat back down.

Alice, however, took that statement a lot differently. Because she knew neither of them had told Linden their last name.

"That is, of course, assuming that alternate dimensions exist and you two are not completely and utterly insane."

Fey froze. "What?"

Linden did not respond. Instead, he calmly walked to the front door of the library and locked it with a distinct click.

"Linden, why did you lock the door?" Fey asked as she slowly got up from the chair, feeling more and more unsafe.

Again, Linden ignored her. "The city, the one you were talking about, is Arcon's Yell," he explained as he made his way back to the siblings who were growing more and more concerned. He smiled. "Strange name, yes. But you're right. That city is quite rich in the mysterious."

Linden stepped between the two of them and looked at the atlas, his headgear shining an eerie red beam to accompany the strange dancing halos the lanterns granted. The dim library was illuminated by the scattering shadows cast by the few sources of light. Without opening the atlas, he smiled at the two. "Inter-dimensional, ah? You madams are interested in inter-dimensional affairs? Interesting..."

He then walked over to the non-fiction shelf and pulled out another book. He set it down on the table and immediately opened it. "Ah, here we are. The theory of alternate dimensions is still under debate. If you two are right, you are living proof that other dimensions exist. If you aren't..."

He closed the book with a loud clap. "You two are insane. And I can't have that."

Alice was backing towards the door. "We aren't insane."

Linden put the book back on the shelf and turned to face them. "Well, you're certainly entitled to think that, Madam, just as I am entitled to think you _are. _And you, Miss Fey, believe me to be insane, do you not?"

"Uh...what makes you think I think you're insane?"

Linden adjusted his headgear. "'_...he can't control it. With the Copy Ability engaged, he receives a nonstop onslaught of information from absolutely everything around him.'"_

"Ah!" Fey clutched her head, staring at him. "What are you doing?!"

"_'This, coupled with the Copy's side effect...'_"

"Stop it!"

"_'His brain isn't big enough to hold all that information. Stay away from him.' _I could go on, but I believe I've made my point. And now you, Miss Alice, faced with this information, taking into account the locked door, and influenced by the rather foreboding darkness of the library and illumination from my headgear and the candles, are thinking the same thing as Fey. Though I suppose now you're Tristan, sir. I should address you by your name, should I not?"

Tristan narrowed his eyes. "Fey. Fill me in."

"The door's locked and he's calling us insane for believing in inter-dimensional travel."

"You're leaving out quite a bit, Miss Fey," Linden said softly, drawing closer. "Though from your point of view that's all Tristan needs to know."

"So you think we're insane, and we think you're insane?" Tristan said slowly. "Is that what we're looking at?"

"It seems so. And I have to agree with you; logic dictates that one of us is wrong and one of us is right. Either you're insane or I am." Linden walked around a table and pulled up a chair. He sat in it and gestured to the other side of the table, motioning for the two of them to sit as well.

"I'll stand, thanks," Tristan told him as Fey took a seat across from Linden. The only thing separating the two of them was the soft orange glow from a lantern.

Fey was obviously uncomfortable. "Aren't these lanterns a bit of a fire hazard?" she asked uneasily, running her stub up and down the wooden table to distract herself from how afraid she was getting.

"Miss Fey. If Tristan will indulge me, I will prove my innocence of psychosis and have you convict him of the same disorder. Unlike you, Miss Fey, I can see all of the layers of his thoughts. I can see how they mesh together, how they clash-"

"Stop," Tristan seethed.

Linden looked up with a genuine smile. "You misunderstand me, Tristan, sir. When I say you will indulge me...you _will _indulge me."

Tristan's eyes narrowed further. He did not trust Linden. Heck, he didn't trust Fey. But he wanted to see how this turned out. He was curious. "...Fine. Go ahead and try."

"Miss Fey," Linden continued. "You believe me to be mad because of what Miss Elizabeth told you, correct?"

Fey nodded.

"Let me give you some perspective. Excuse me for a moment." A wooden scrape destroyed the quiet that had fallen over the library as Linden got up from his seat and dissipated into the darkness. He came back and gently set the atlas of Corfort on the table, the reflective glint from his headgear blinding Tristan momentarily. "How much of this book do I understand by looking at it, Miss Fey? Guess."

"...Um...all of it's contents?" she said uncertainly.

Linden's unnerving smile widened. "Oh, you're barely scratching the surface, dearie. What you believe to be the extent of the Copy Ability, in reality, is mere child's play. Open the book to page one hundred seventy-nine and search for the word with a small stain of wine in the middle of it." As Fey carried out these instructions, Linden continued. "This book, as you have probably noticed, is no ordinary book. This is one of only three copies existing on Acoa. Do you know why? Tristan, sir. Guess," he said with a smile.

"It's handwritten," Tristan responded gruffly. "I don't even have to open the cover to see that."

"Yes, sir. You are correct, sir. Do you know what this means?"

Tristan was silent for a while. As he thought, he kept a close eye on the puffball on the other side of the somber table. His expression was unmoving, almost frozen in the polite smile he had on now. Those eyes seemed to bore into him, judging his thought processes. And the bugger knew, didn't he? He knew exactly what Tristan was thinking! All because of that device on his head!

"I'm going to stop you right there, Tristan, sir," Linden interrupted his thought process. "Though I admit this piece of work I'm wearing is quite...a piece of work, it is all but decorative now..." He took the headgear off and gently swept the table clear of dust before setting the machine on the table. He gazed at it lovingly before looking back up at Tristan. "Now...continue."

"_He's bluffing. He can't actually- Oh my God,_" Linden repeated with a smile as he watchedTristan's expression transform from one of doubt to one of horror. "_The bugger! How the hell's he doing that?! He's got to be- SHUT UP ALREADY! _My, my, Tristan, sir...such language. Such anger."

"Shut up," he fumed. "My thoughts are _my_ business."

Linden's smile widened. "Ah, Tristan, sir...I beg to differ. _Nothing_ is simply your business anymore. It's _our_ business."

"I'll kill you."

Linden shook his head. "No, you won't. But...back to business. Why is the fact that this was handwritten so important? An author wrote each and every one of these words. With his hand."

"Hand?" Fey asked. "How do you know it was a hand? Most of the intelligent species here have stubs. What makes you think it was a hand?"

"Oh, I know _much_ more than that, Miss Fey." Linden's grin did not falter, though the lantern's light did. As the illumination dwindled, his smile seemed to stretch vertically, the shadows expanding past his face, making him seem quite a bit more sinister. "Let me tell you what I know. I know that this was written by a team of five authors, three men, two women. Both of the women were native to Corfort and all five were humans. This particular passage was written by a man who had been having marital problems for the past two and a half weeks. This had been weighing on his mind so he had forgotten to eat dinner. He decided to eat and write at the same time since he had a deadline to meet. This man usually prefers milk or water with his dinner, but once again, his marital problems were weighing him down, hence, wine. As he wrote, he began to drink more and more fervently until he became drunk. His hampered reaction time was the cause of this spot of wine over the word 'hiking'."

"Y-you knew all that?"

"Again, Miss Fey...scratching the surface. Child's play. That was simply a demonstration. If we had the time, I could tell you the diets and mental disorders, known and unknown, of all five of the authors of this book and their extended families. I could tell you each and every thought going through their mind as they dipped their quills in the ink before writing in this atlas. I could tell you which one of them died during the writing of this book, and which one was the killer. And I could tell you why, where, and with what. I could tell you the exact molecular structure of each and every letter in each and every word in each and every page. Where do I work, Miss Fey?"

The question obviously caught her off guard. "Um...the library."

"Yes. The library." Linden leaned forward on the table, waiting for Fey to connect the dots.

"_Oh my God. The books- STOP IT! _Ah, I apologize, Tristan," Linden grinned sheepishly. "As you may know, I don't have much control over this intake of information. I'll try to keep my, err, siphoning_,_ for lack of a better word...discreet. But as you have realized, yes. Books." He looked around the library wistfully. "There are quite a lot of them, aren't there? Now, Miss Fey. Do you remember how much I was able to tell you of the authors of this atlas?"

"...Yes."

"Imagine that amount of knowledge and multiply it roughly by the amount of books in this library. Again, that's scratching the surface, Miss Fey, but you're getting warmer."

Tristan shook his head. "These aren't handwritten. You can't decipher anything from them. A lot of them are done by printing press or electronically."

"Does that matter?" Linden turned to him. "And now...for the interesting part. You."

"What do you mean?" Tristan asked. He wanted to sit down, but his sense told him to stay standing.

"Oh, well, from a standpoint of understanding everything, you are the most interesting person in this room...barring me, of course. Fey, you already know Mister Matthew's secret."

"Fey, don't tell him anything," Tristan warned.

Linden laughed lightly again. Under any other circumstances, it might have been perceived as friendly. Now it just seemed strange and out of place. "Oh, Tristan, sir. Surely you haven't forgotten already? I _know_ she knows. And I know exactly how many personalities are bouncing around in that brain of yours...something you don't seem to fully comprehend yourself."

"Wait...what?" Tristan was caught off guard. What was he insinuating?

"You know quite well what I'm insinuating, Mister Tristan. You believe there to be eight. But you don't seem to understand how fascinating you really are." Linden slowly got up from his chair and began walking towards Tristan.

Everything in his mind was telling him to run. Everything was telling him to break down the front door to the library and run.

But he couldn't. This bugger knew him better than he did. And he needed to figure out how much he knew.

"Tristan. You talk to yourself because you're lonely. You feel detached from the rest of the personalities since you believe that you're the only one who knows what he's doing. That's until Miss Mabel came along. You feel inadequate next to her. You feel as if she's doing your job, but better. You feel threatened by her presence because not only is she relaxed and able to make smart decisions, but she has the willpower and the sense to have the others act upon the facts that she has laid out. You're jealous because even though she doesn't make any sort of decision by herself, she ends up getting what she wants, something you just can't seem to achieve.

"But now, looking at me delving into your mind like this...you're paranoid, Tristan, sir. You always have been. But you're curious, too. And that's why you haven't stopped me yet. You want to know how much I know so you know how careful you have to be around me. You've been thinking that the 'other you' that you talk to is another personality, but you know that the notion is quite ridiculous, especially considering the rather offensive accent you've given him. And yet, he seems to be the voice of reason out of the two of you. He is the bridge between you and the others. He's the one who keeps other interests in mind. Though each decision you make is ultimately up to you, Tristan, sir, this voice...you hate him. You hate him because he's more sensible than you are. He's more..._real_ than you are. But you don't want to get rid of him because he's the only thing you feel safe to call your friend."

Tristan wanted to tell him off. He wanted to go right up to Linden and sock him in the face and tell him that he was wrong. He wanted to hurt that smug little bugger so bad...but he couldn't. Because he was right. That voice...and Mabel...everything. He was right about everything. And he _hated _it.

Linden was very close to him now. There was no source of light between the two, since Linden had taken his headgear off. Therefore, the green puffball was simply a sinister silhouette standing in front of him. "I would delve into each and every one of you, but honestly, I think there are things that even _you_ shouldn't know about yourself, Tristan. But that isn't what makes you insane. What makes you insane is that you and your sister think you're human, turned into puffballs. This would normally be so ridiculous it wouldn't even need explaining. And yet...the fact that there are two of you seems to make things more complicated. You see...what's strange is that your pasts seem to match up."

"Of course, they do," Tristan said caustically. "We're siblings."

Linden raised an eyebrow. "Yes. You two are human siblings from a different dimension. You both were brought here by some coincidence, separated by three years. Not only that, you were both turned into puffballs, and you, Tristan, sir, developed _very_ severe retrograde amnesia on top of your _also_ severe dissociative identity disorder. Quite a likely story."

Tristan narrowed his eyes but said nothing. He was right...it was uncommon.

"Dissociative identity disorder is a mental disorder that is diagnosed by at least two distinct and enduring personalities that alternate control of the individual's body. Often, it is accompanied by memory impairment that includes the forgetting of important events and facts not explained by ordinary forgetfulness. Fey, does your 'brother' forget important events or facts in a way that cannot be explained by ordinary forgetfulness?"

Fey's eyes widened as she realized Linden was talking to her. "Um...no, I don't think so. Nothing past the whole, um...'I forget everything' thing..."

"That's probably just the fact that the memories don't carry over from personality to personality," Tristan excused. "We tell each other everything in the journal."

"Oh, yes, but you don't need to do that for some of them, do you?" Linden asked, his smile widening.

"What are you getting at?"

"What I'm getting at is Mia and Mabel."

Fey piped up. "Who's this Mabel person?!"

Linden turned to face her. "Mabel is Mister Matthew's undoing."

"What?!" Tristan protested.

"Mabel is one of Mister Matthew's personalities, the eighth to reveal herself. And that's the problem, isn't it?" Linden smiled his unnerving smile again. He calmly walked over to the table and picked up the dying lantern. "You'll have to excuse me, the light level's low enough in this library already. Can't have this one dying." He carried it to the front desk as he continued. "As I was saying...Mabel 'revealed' herself. This shouldn't happen. She and Mia have both exhibited the ability to perceive what other personalities are doing. This goes completely against the forgetfulness that you dismissed earlier. So tell me, Mister Tristan...if you don't have dissociative identity disorder...what do you have?"

The scratch of a match being struck broke the silence that Linden had made. A small flame illuminated his face as he lit the wick inside the lantern. With a metallic screech, he closed the lantern's door. His expression reminded Tristan of some sort of wolf, stalking his prey.

"Now hold on!" Fey objected as she stood up from the chair. "How does that mean he's insane? How does that mean _we're _insane?"

Linden ignored her. "You woke up next to a diary, Miss Alice."

"I'm not Alice," Tristan said through gritted teeth.

"I wasn't talking to you."

Linden was very close, now. The lantern's flame wavered in the darkness. It was only now that Tristan realized how afraid he was. His heart was palpitating, and his skin was cold and clammy. And Linden...Linden stood in front of him with the expression he no doubt wore when they had first met. That smile...it seemed so genuine. He looked at Tristan as if this were some sort of game. Was that all this was? A game? Whoever this guy was...he was a threat. A _real_ threat.

"I was talking to Alice."

Alice gasped for breath. This time was different. She sometimes felt like she was stepping forward. Sometimes she felt like she was being shoved from behind.

But never had she _ever_ felt as if she was being _pulled from the outside._

"Miss Alice. I wanted to ask you a question," Linden said with a grin. "How nice of you to show up."

Alice stared at Fey, silently screaming for help. She was scared. She wanted nothing to do with this person in front of her. So she nodded meekly. "Okay..."

"Well, it isn't really a question, more a point I wanted to make," Linden corrected himself. "You woke up next to a diary, did you not?"

Again, she nodded.

"How convenient is it that you woke up to a brand new diary that gave you the idea to use one for communication?"

"What are you saying?" Fey stood up. "That she _put_ it there?!"

Linden didn't answer her. "Everyone in this town is insane, Fey. Or, I should say...everyone _remaining_ in this town is insane. Liz...Ash...Matthew...and you."

"You can't say something like that without explaining anything," Fey said harshly.

"Of course not," Linden dismissed. "But you've been having your doubts about the two of them. Don't bother denying it, Miss Fey. I can quite literally read you like a book. There is only one word necessary to convince you that Liz suffers from sadistic tendencies."

"And what would that be?"

"Screams."

All motion in the library stopped.

"No," Fey whispered.

Alice felt like crying. "What, Fey? What screams? What is he talking about?!"

Linden turned to her. "Oh, but you've heard them, too. Perhaps not as Alice, though...No...You were David."

"Stop it! Stop it!" David screamed as the tears Alice built up came running down his face. "Stop doing this! It's not right!"

"Hold on..." Linden frowned for the first time that night. "You heard them, but they were drowned out. Drowned by...ringing. You've been having auditory hallucinations."

David looked at Linden in fear. "Shut up! Go away! I hate you!"

"If you're truly from another dimension, David...how have you been talking to your father over the phone?"

"You've been what?" Fey stared at him. Hard.

"Not only that..." Linden continued. "But if your 'human' memories are correct...he's dead."

"No! He can't be!" David protested, his voice cracking. "I talked to him! He told me to keep my head up for mom!"

Linden laughed. "But how? Your father's dead. You remember that. In fact, you remember all of those conversations from _before _you lost your memory. You were lonely, so you invented your dad having a one-sided conversation, plucked fresh from your past on the other side of the phone. Why was it one-sided, though? Did you ever ask yourself why he never answered back?" Linden leaned forward, his grin widening. "It's because you were mute."

David choked, unable to take it. He sunk to the floor and began to sob.

"But I'm getting sidetracked. You heard screams, too. Fey, have you seen Marco around lately? What about Paula?"

Fey scowled. "What does that have to do with Mia?"

"You remember their Copy Abilities. Bomb and Crash. It isn't a coincidence that they both disappeared shortly before your surgery. Liz told you about how she was able to make advancements of progress on your operation because of the headgear of explosive abilities, such as...say it with me..."

"Bomb and Crash..." Fey echoed, her voice beginning to shake again. "No...you can't mean..."

Linden abandoned David and began stalking towards her. "Liz is a mad scientist, Fey. Marco is dead. She didn't _have _to kill him. But she did. She found it fun. Paula died about...mm...an hour ago from malnutrition. And now Liz wants a 'follow-up operation' to make sure 'everything's working correctly'. What do you think she means?"

"No...she can't..." Fey shivered, feeling a lot less safe.

Linden looked ecstatic as Fey trembled, breaking down in front of him. "Oh, but she did. And you're next. You wondered why she did this for you. And now you know. But if you'll recall...I said Ash was insane, too. What do you think, Adrian, sir?"

Adrian coughed suddenly, wiping David's tears away. "You're insane."

"Ah, just like you to jump to conclusions, Adrian," Linden said good-naturedly. "At least let me plead my case about Ash. When he asked you to investigate the river, you went back to your room and found a note that told you to disobey his orders. Who wrote that note?"

"...I did..." Fey said quietly.

"Fey. Tell the story," Linden commanded.

Fey bit her lip, obviously not wanting to do so. But she caved. "Ash has been concerned about that river for a very long time now. He's been sending puffballs up there for 'reconnaissance' for almost a year. And without fail...those puffballs end up going missing. Like Michael. He was the one before you. He had gone twice and came back with nothing of importance. The third time, though...he disappeared. He's gotten maybe ten or twenty puffballs to go up there...and he doesn't even seem to notice that they're gone. Only that they can't give him any more news about that river. And when he asked you...I panicked."

"So...what does that mean?" Adrian's voice was trembling almost as much as Fey was.

Fey shook her head. "I don't know. I just knew that if you went up there I'd never see you again..."

Linden clicked his tongue. "Miss Fey, you're forgetting one thing. The pictures."

"He...he has...p-pictures...in a drawer in his k-kitchen...I saw them by accident...b-but I think...that when he kills someone...he puts a hole through their face.

"And there we have it," Linden concluded, swinging his lantern in his grip happily. "Everyone in Wyvern is mad except for one person!"

"Wait...you haven't proven me yet," Fey protested. "You claimed that I think I was human and that proves it, but you haven't proven that I'm not human."

"But I don't need to, Fey. I don't need to prove that you and your brother are wrong about being human. Because this is where the logic I mentioned earlier comes into play," Linden grinned as he put the lantern on the floor. "Either you're insane...or I am."

"So what are you going to do?"

"Come clean."

Linden's smile vanished.

"Fey and Matthew Choreman. I am insane."

Adrian felt like his heart dropped into his stomach. "Wh...what?"

Linden's eyes flitted to the headgear on the table. "Insanity: a deranged state of the mind usually occurring as a specific disorder. I am insane."

"I...I don't understand..." Fey stuttered.

"Miss Fey," Linden stressed. "With or without that headgear, I am able to analyze many things about an object or person. Just by looking at you, I can predict your date and cause of death by the strength of your immune system, your path of decisions from this day forward, your typical diet, the way you talk and present yourself, and the relationship you have with people around you. I have an understanding of you that even you yourself cannot comprehend. But I don't know anything about myself.

"I have tried looking in the mirror. The headgear gives me facts about the mirror. I have tried looking at photographs. The headgear gives me statistics about the photograph. But it won't tell me anything about myself. I know nothing about myself. And it has driven me insane."

Adrian no longer knew who was in front of him. Linden was still the calm, collected puffball that he had grown used to for the past few days. But something was...off about him. Was it that his smile was gone? Or...was it that he was talking about himself?

Linden took a breath and let it out slowly. He stared at the metallic headgear on the table. "I have no opinion, Miss Fey. I have no say in my actions, Mister Matthew. That _thing_ does all my thinking for me. My only option is the path of choices that will keep me alive for as long as possible. It is, after all, a machine with the primary purpose to serve. But it has drawbacks. Because my personal thoughts are not necessary for self-preservation, I have not thought personal thoughts for a long time. I have no personal opinion of either of you. It's all facts, facts, statistics, statistics...Liz was right. A normal puffball's brain would not be able to handle that much information." He looked up at Fey with a dark expression. "I have no brain. That thing _is _my brain."

Linden, for the third time that night, began to walk towards the front door. "But I've found a loophole. One that will let me escape from being nothing more than its vessel," he stated, grabbing a key from the front desk and unlocking the door. "Before even my longevity is taken into account, the headgear must be sure that its actions are righteous. Though it excuses the siphoning of information by never having me use it for wrongdoing, it does not believe that hurting others is necessary. But to preserve myself, I have been told to preserve an ongoing threat that will endanger everyone around me. The facts that the headgear has gathered state that you are lying about being human, but your bodies and brains are telling the truth. So that must make you insane. Since the actions of insane individuals are unpredictable and sometimes violent, the best course of action is to kill you. But the machine has perceived what it has done to me. It recognizes that I am not sound of mind, and has deemed me insane. So by the logic it has deemed 'correct', I must kill myself to have a longer lifespan. This is, of course, nonsensical. So my 'brain' has reached a contradiction. And I, as Linden, am consulted as a third party for my opinion. And my opinion is this," he said quietly, under his breath.

Fey got up from her chair slowly, watching as Linden calmly made his way back to her.

He looked her right in the eyes and whispered his request.

"Kill me."

"What!? No!" Fey protested, backing away from the deranged puffball in front of her.

"Miss Fey, I am unable to escape any other way. By some strange luck, I have created one way to spare myself from being a machine for a machine. Trust me when I say that this is my best option. I must be righteous, and if I continue to live, I will only hurt others. And I don't think...I don't think I would like that."

Adrian's heart threatened to explode by the rate of its circulation. He couldn't just kill him...it was _wrong!_

Linden looked at Adrian and sighed sadly. "Alright...if you won't do it...I will."

Then he stood up, grabbed his lantern from the table, and smashed it against the floor. Fire spread across the library like lightning as Fey and Adrian raced to the door with the flames licking at their heels. Fey rushed through the threshold and ushered Adrian through. Before he did, though, he took one glance back.

Through the flames, Adrian saw Linden looking at the two of them with tears in his eyes. A crack sounded from the roof of the library, but Linden didn't seem to notice. Locking eyes with Adrian, he smiled his good-natured smile that Adrian had been accustomed to. From within the burning inferno of the library, Linden waved goodbye.

Fey yanked Adrian away from the front door seconds before the library crashed down on itself. The siblings lay on their backs in the snow, wordlessly trying to comprehend what happened.

Finally, as the gravity of the situation sunk in, they began to cry.


	26. The End

__**Window to the Past**__

_**By Multikirby**_

Cameron was helpless. He had no idea where he was. Everything was white. He couldn't tell where the floor ended and the horizon began. Cameron had tried running as far as he could in one direction, but after about two minutes, he began to get paranoid that he was on the edge of a cliff and one more step would send him careening off the edge.

He had no idea how long he'd been here. Just like earlier, when he had been with Chaos, fatigue didn't seem to be applicable here. There was no day-night cycle to speak of, and consequently, there was no time to speak of. Had he been here for ten minutes? Twenty-four hours? Seven days? A year? He couldn't tell anymore.

Cameron began to talk to himself.

"Hello?" he called. "Multikirby?"

"You haven't spoken to me in a while," he answered, pretending to be Multikirby.

Cameron scratched the back of his head. "Yeah, not since I...well...you know...left Earth."

"Well, you did always ask me to take you along." Multikirby stretched, relaxed. "Figured the time was right."

"Yeah, why did you end up doing that, anyways?" Cameron questioned.

Multikirby seemed to ignore him. "Hey, uh...do you know where you are right now?"

"Um...not really," Cameron said, looking around. "I know I came here after Chaos crowned me. Is this like some sort of limbo?"

"Don't you recognize it?" Multikirby looked surprised. "I mean, you've never been here _personally_, but you know what I mean, right?"

Cameron nodded. "Yeah. It looks almost identical to the place I popped up in when I first met Chaos. Right after I finished the trilogy." Then he frowned. "It sucks that it isn't going to be finished."

"Oh, no, it's going to be finished, don't worry," Multikirby comforted him.

Again, Cameron nodded. "Well, I made Chaos promise that if I died, he'd finish it. But he's got his own story going on, you know?"

"He isn't the one writing it, dude," Multikirby interrupted. "Cameron is, remember? The guy behind the laptop?"

"But...Multi, that was me, up until I-don't-know-how-long ago."

"No, it wasn't," he corrected. "I'm the guy behind the laptop. I'm writing the story. You're the persona right now. We switched."

Cameron squinted. "What do you mean?"

"I've been writing the story from the beginning," Multikirby told him. "You know that dude who was impersonating you while writing in the first person? That was me."

"You know, if it was anyone else, I'd be mad," Cameron said with a smirk. "But we're pretty much the same person, so I guess I can let it slide. So...since you're here, actually, when do I go back to Earth? When the story ends? Because I know you're there right now, being me and everything, and I'm being you, so...when are we going to switch back?"

Multikirby suddenly looked a lot more uncomfortable. "Um...yeah...about that..."

* * *

"...Fey?" Toby asked quietly. "...Why is the library on fire?"

Fey slowly sat up, her eyes plagued with a haunted look, as if she wasn't really there.

Toby stood up and carefully tapped her. "...Fey?"

Fey turned her head to look at him. "We need to leave now."

"What? Why?"

Fey didn't respond. She stood up, grabbed hold of Toby's stub and proceeded to run.

"Hey! Wait!" Toby protested. "Where are we going!?"

She didn't turn to look at him. "We're leaving."

"You told me that, Fey, but why?"

Fey stopped and looked at Toby. "This town is insane, Toby. Everyone in it is insane and staying here a moment longer would be insane."

"Everyone's...insane?" Toby shook his head in disagreement. "No, I'm sure that's not true. I don't know what they did to you, but I'm sure if you got to know them better, you'd see-"

Fey interrupted Toby by grabbing hold and shaking him. "If you were with me in that library, you'd know. Obviously, you weren't. Now go and get your sack. I've got some stuff to do before we leave."

Toby began to protest, but Fey had already run off. He looked across the street at the clinic. Heaving a sigh, Toby walked up to the front doors and entered. Liz, who was just entering her office, waved hello as he came in, but said no more. Toby returned the wave just before she went into her office. He proceeded to go into his own 'room' himself.

Opening the door, Toby stared into his 'room'. He had been here only for a couple of days, and he was leaving...because...everyone was crazy? He shook his head again. It didn't make sense! But Fey was his big sister. She knew best. Right? He began to pack up the few things he and the others had taken out of the bag. As he walked around the room solemnly and reluctantly, he began to think a bit. Finally, Toby came to the journal on the bedside table. Maybe he should ask what they think.

__It can't be true, can it?__Toby asked himself as he stared at the journal.__Linden, Liz, Ash...they can't all be insane, can they? It's ridiculous. But...Fey wouldn't say anything about it if she had something to back it up, right?__

__Not unless she's insane.__

Toby stopped. Where had that thought come from? It was his thought, yeah, but...it was kind of out of the blue.

With another sigh of reluctance, Toby gave in and started writing in the journal.

* * *

Cameron was starting to feel strange talking to Multikirby. As if he really was talking to somebody else instead of somebody he was creating the lines for inside his head.

"What...what do you mean, 'about that'?" Cameron asked.

Multikirby shuffled his feet uncomfortably on the ground. "Well, it isn't really that simple, Cam."

"Yeah, it is," Cameron interrupted. "It is simple. It's very simple." He laughed. "Otherwise I wouldn't have been able to do it by mistake!"

"You're taking this pretty well," Multikirby said, a little confused.

Cameron's smile vanished. "What? What am I taking well? I mean, I'm kind of dead, but Chaos will finish the trilogy, and I'll be back on earth with my family and stuff! Why wouldn't I be taking that well?"

Multikirby pursed his lips into a frown. "...Because that isn't what's happening, Cam."

"Okay, so what is happening, then?" Cameron asked. "Because if what I think is happening isn't happening, then I'm confused."

Cameron was only met with a sigh from Multikirby. It was...almost as if he could see Multikirby in front of him...as if they were two separate people.

* * *

"Um, guys?" Toby wrote. "I'm hoping for some sort of explanation as to why Fey's saying everyone in Wyvern is crazy and we need to leave now. Could someone please fill me in?"

"It won't do to give you bits and pieces of one story, so I'm going to step in and give you the entire story," Mabel replied. "Alice and Fey went into that library to research Corfort, which I presume is our next destination. Linden saw us looking at interdimensional travel and became interested in us. He and Tristan engaged in a debate that resulted in Linden admitting he was not sound of mind, Linden begging us to kill him because of his headpiece making him nothing more than a machine himself, and Linden burning to death in the library he set on fire. Through this conversation, we gained evidence that Ash has been repeatedly sending puffballs to their deaths up by the river, and Liz is keeping test subjects in the basement of her clinic."

"You know, Mabel, it's funny," Daphne wrote. "They seem to love you for the same reasons they hate me."

"Shut up, Daphne," Tristan wrote with hostility.

"Thank you for proving my point, Tristan," Daphne responded. "Don't you think it's strange to have a romantic attraction to yourself?"

"What are you insinuating? That Tristan likes Mabel?" Adrian scoffed. "What are you smoking?"

"I wasn't insinuating _that_ particular relationship, Adrian," Daphne retorted. "And I think drug jokes are highly inappropriate, as I'm sure Alice would agree."

"So..." Toby wrote. "Do we leave? Do we stay?"

"I say we leave," Tristan answered.

"If you were in the library, too, Toby, you'd agree with us," Alice agreed.

"I'm not sure if I can believe right away that everyone in Wyvern is insane," Mia pondered. "But you guys seem pretty sure about it, so I'm going to side with you."

* * *

Toby closed the journal. So there it was. Everyone was pretty much unanimous. They should leave Wyvern. But Toby couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. Something about this plan bothered him. He just couldn't believe that everyone in Wyvern was out to kill him. It was ridiculous! But he couldn't leave Fey...she was his sister.

__Toby, let me make one thing clear to you.__

"AAGH!" Toby screamed, not ready for the voice he was hearing. "Who's there!?"

"Sorry," Liz's voice came from outside his room. "I slammed the door."

"O-oh, okay," Toby replied shakily, though he knew what he had heard was no door slam.

__It's Daphne, Toby, __the voice said tiredly. __Now before you write me off because I'm Daphne, I want to say something to you. Keep in mind, Toby, that even though I'm a so-called 'renegade', I'm still as much a part of this body as you are.__

It was true. Toby didn't want to hear a word she was saying. But it was also true that she was Matthew as much as he was.

__No, no, no, don't go thinking that, Toby. You're smarter than this. I can't be Matthew. But you might be. Do you think you are Matthew, Toby? Do you think you're the original?__

"I...I don't know," Toby whispered, so Liz wouldn't overhear. "I mean, it could be me, Adrian, Tristan, or David! It's a one in four chance!"

__No it isn't, Toby,__Daphne said.__It is up to you. Do you think you are Matthew, or do you think you're a made up figment of someone's imagination?__

"I...I don't..."

__It's a yes or no question, Toby. Do you think you are Matthew?__

"It's hard to say-"

__Do you think you are Matthew?!__

"I don't know..."

__ARE YOU MATTHEW, TOBY?!__

"Yes!" Toby screamed suddenly, surprising himself.

He froze as he heard a knock on the door. "You okay in there?"

"Uhh...yes...?" Toby said sheepishly.

__Toby, you have a choice. Whether you're Matthew or not, you need to make choices to keep yourself alive. Do you go with Fey, out into the cold upper continent? Do you let her lead you into a place where neither of you have been, into the unknown for the small hope that you might find something that'll take us home?__

"She's my sister, Daph, I'm sure-"

__Or do you stay here in Wyvern? You don't have a home yet, but you've seen all the vacant houses. You could easily move into one of them. The others seem to think Liz and Ash are not sound of mind. But you don't, Toby. You don't believe them.__

"Well...they've got to be on to something if-"

__It's circumstantial evidence. I saw it. For someone supposed to be driven to dementia by logic, Linden made a lot of assumptions and jumps to conclude his verdict on Liz and Ash. Personally, Toby, I don't believe it.__

"...You don't?"

__No, Toby. I don't. And I'm hoping that you aren't blinded by the others. You're Matthew, Toby. You can't rely on the others. They don't matter. Focus on yourself.__

"But I can't just disregard them! They're my friends!"

__I'm not asking you to disregard them, Toby. I'm asking you to keep in mind that you are the alpha. You are the original. You have the final say in the decision.__

"Am I really that important, Daph?"

__Yes, Matthew. Yes, you are.__

* * *

Multikirby grabbed Cameron's shoulders and looked him in the eye, almost more for himself than for Cameron. "You aren't going back to Earth at the end of this, Cameron."

"What?" Cameron made a face and wrested himself out of Multikirby's grip. "Of course I am! That's how the story ends! The story starts with me literally self-inserting myself into the story as Multikirby, I write all of the stories to the end, I promise to rewrite the trilogy, and me and the three kids go home! That's how it ends!"

Grimacing, Multikirby shook his head. "No, Cameron. You wrote that 'Multikirby goes home', not Cameron. And...that's how you and I switched. But...this isn't your story, Cameron. It's mine."

"No, it isn't!" Cameron's voice took on an angry tone. "I've been writing it this entire time!"

Multikirby began to look guilty. "Cameron...technically speaking, you aren't even Cameron anymore."

Cameron's angry expression melted into one of confusion. "...What?"

Multikirby looked down at the ground and closed his eyes. "Cameron's...always been the guy behind the computer, on Earth. Multikirby's been the persona, the one Cameron made that represents him in works of fiction." He looked up at Cameron, whose face slowly became more and more horrified as he began to get it. "Who's who, Multikirby?"

Tears sprung from Cameron's eyes as his heart sprung up into his throat. "I'm not...__I'm not Multikirby!___"_

Multikirby stayed silent. Cameron stalked up to him, his fists balled up.

"I think you already know the answer, Multikirby."

"_Stop calling me that!_" Cameron screamed.

__THOK__

Multikirby fell to the ground, his cheek growing red from Cameron's punch. He looked up at Cameron, breathing heavily. "Punching me isn't going to change anyth-"

__THOK__

"OUF!"

Cameron's foot retracted from Multikirby's stomach. His expression was contorted into one of absolute hatred. "I am NOT Multikirby! YOU'RE Multikirby!" he roared.

"There's...there's a reason...I can't let you...go back to Earth..." Multikirby panted, wincing from pain as he stood back up. "I can't let you go...back..."

Tears streamed freely down Cameron's cheeks as he shouted in Multikirby's face. "Why!? What makes you think that you can just take my life away from me?!"

* * *

Toby sat on his bed, thinking. Daphne had stopped talking to him. She realized he needed some time to think. He appreciated the consideration.

He had decided; he was going to stay in Wyvern. It made him really sad that he'd have to abandon his sister, but he had to make these decisions. He was Matthew, and he couldn't let his body get hurt because the others couldn't let go of false hope. But could he really get away with thinking these thoughts? Was he absolutely sure that he was Matthew? Was he absolutely sure that he was the original?

..._Yes,_ Toby thought. _I am. I can't be made up. I'm sorry, guys, but...we have to stay here._

He picked up the journal and threw it in his sack. That suddenly reminded him of something. What was he going to tell Fey? She definitely wouldn't be happy...But he knew this was the right choice. He had to stay here in Wyvern where he knew everyone would be safe.

"Sorry, Fey. I can't come with you," Toby practiced, pacing around the room. "It's nothing against you, trust me. I just...think it's better for me to stay here. It's safer."

"Look, I can't go with you to Corfort. There's just too many variables, and I don't think Liz and Ash are totally completely insane."

"I just don't really like the cold, and-"

"I'm tired of not knowing-"

"What if we don't-"

"Nice weather we're having-"

Toby flopped back onto his bed. How was he going to do this? He couldn't refuse without making Fey sad! It was impossible! Then he sat up, realizing something else. The others are going to want to leave, too. What was he going to do about them? Would he be able to convince them that this really was the best option? _Without_ claiming that he was Matthew?

He still wasn't really sure about that either. He certainly felt like he wasn't made up, but does that really make him Matthew? How could he know for sure? Because the other three candidates could use the same reasoning he was...

Maybe it was the fact that he wanted something different. If he wanted to stay in Wyvern while everyone else wanted to go to Corfort...didn't that make him different from everyone else? It set him apart. Didn't that mean that he could be different from them in other ways, too?

Shaking his head, he looked at his sack that he had packed the journal into. This was it. That sack could accompany him with Fey to Corfort...or it could accompany him to a new house and a new life in Wyvern.

This was his choice to make, and his choice alone. This was Toby's choice.

This was Matthew's choice.

* * *

Fey rushed back and forth in her house, packing up everything she felt like she was going to need going to Corfort with her brother.

"Dang it, Matthew, why did _you_ get the magical bag with infinite packing space?" she grumbled, looking at her relatively small backpack. It was already stuffed full with supplies, and she still felt like there was more to be done. "I hope you make use of that thing, or I'm going to hurt you."

Lifting up her backpack, she put it on before rushing out the door into the snow.

She looked up at the sky. It was overcast, tainted grey by the blanket of clouds that stretched from one horizon to the next. Light snow was falling from the sky in small wavering groups, painting the ground a pure white. She had never really noticed it before, but Wyvern was quite devoid of colour. The buildings had no life to them; they seemed dead, as if frozen in time. The frost that settled on each window of each vacant house seemed to symbolize the cold emptiness contained within the walls of wood and stone. Hearths that once warmed families of puffballs now only sat in wait, wondering where their masters went, and when they would light up the heart of the hearth once more into a burning flame. There were only three houses in this village that had masters, three houses that were given purpose.

And Fey was going to make it two.

* * *

"Cameron, listen to me, please..." Multikirby pulled himself up from the ground, grimacing from the pains his counterpart had inflicted upon him.

"Why should I!?" Cameron screamed, glaring at Multikirby with a look that seemed to want to ignite him and burn him alive.

"I have a reason I need to keep you here, Cameron...I'm not doing this for me," Multikirby tried to explain.

Cameron's face contorted as his eyes threatened to tear up again. He pushed them back. "You liar!"

"I'm not lying," Multikirby said quietly, distancing himself from Cameron. "I'm sorry, Cameron, but I can't allow you to go back. I can't finish the story."

"Chaos'll do it! He'll finish it! He...he promised!" Cameron pointed at Multikirby accusingly. "You can't make him break that promise!"

"He's in on it, Cameron," Multikirby replied. "He...killed you, remember?"

Cameron began to choke. "I...I don't know why he did that, but Chaos would never try to hurt me!"

This only made Multikirby look even more guilty. "He...he was tough to convince. He got really sad when I told him he had to kill you."

"Wait," Cameron stopped him. "When Chaos got all depressed. That was you?"

Multikirby nodded solemnly. "I'm his friend, Cameron. I don't like seeing him like that. But we both knew it had to be done."

"_Why?!_ What did I do to deserve this?!" Cameron's voice began to crack, and sadness began to seep through, leaking into his tone.

Multikirby took a deep breath. "It was a mistake, Cameron. You made a huge mistake."

* * *

Fey took a deep breath and knocked on the door to the clinic. Liz opened the door. "Oh, Fey. Hi," she greeted.

"Hey. Is Cece here?" she asked, trying not to betray anything with her tone of voice.

Liz nodded. "He's in his room. Should I go get him?"

"No, no, I'll get him," Fey said quickly.

"Alright," Liz said with a nod. "Don't forget, you have follow-up tomorrow, okay?"

"Yeah, sure," Fey dismissed absently. She knocked on the door to Toby's room. "Toby? You in there?"

"Yep," came his voice, though it was a bit shaky.

Fey opened the door slowly, and entered the room. Toby was on the other side of the room, sitting on his bed. He was staring hard at his feet, seemingly concentrating very hard at something.

"You okay, Toby?"

"H-huh?" He looked up at her, his eyes red. It was as if he hadn't slept in the past week, though he had looked normal when she had left him.

"You...you _are _Toby, right?"

"Uh...yeah. Yeah, I am. I'm Toby," he said, before going back to staring at his feet.

Fey walked up to him, concerned. "Are you ready to go?"

"Um...Fey, I need to tell you something," he said, his voice straining suddenly.

"Okay, shoot."

"I don't think you're going to like it, but you have to hear me out, okay?"

Fey heard a small alarm go off in the back of her head, alerting her that something wasn't right. She dismissed the feeling for now. "Yeah, of course."

Toby took a deep breath. "I...I wasn't in the library with you, Fey. You know that, right?"

"Yes..."

"So I didn't hear the stuff that Linden said."

"Uh huh."

"But...somebody told me about what was said, so I sort of know what went on."

"Okay."

"So I don't want you to freak out when I say this because it's my opinion, okay?"

"What is it, Toby?"

"I don't think Liz and Ash are crazy," Toby finished, "and I'm going to stay in Wyvern."

Fey stared at him for a few moments, before frowning. "Toby, I'm not really in the mood to joke around right now. We need to go."

Toby closed his eyes and shook his head, grimacing. "No, Fey. I'm not going. You can leave if you want. But I'm not leaving."

The alarms in her head began to grow louder. She peered at him curiously. "Toby, please. I'm serious. I'm leaving right now. Have you not finished packing? I can help you," she said as she began to look around the room for things to put in his bag. "Actually, I was wondering if I could pack some of my stuff in your bag; my backpack's really small, and-"

"Fey."

She stopped. "Toby...you aren't serious, are you?"

"I'm serious. I'm staying here. I'm sorry, Fey," Toby said solemnly, looking at the ground.

"B-but..." Fey tried to search for some sort of reasoning as her eyes grew hot from holding back tears. "What about mom, Toby? What about Earth?"

"What about it?" he asked. "How do we know it even exists, Fey? What if there's no way back? What if mom's dead?"

"_Toby!"_

Toby's voice began to waver, too. "I've been thinking a lot about this, Fey. I don't want to admit it, but...mom's probably dead. She lost you. She lost dad. And then she lost me. I...I don't think she'd be able to take it."

Fey stalked up to him with fire in each step. "Don't you _dare_ say that!" she scolded him hotly. "She's still alive! I know she is!"

"No, you don't, Fey!" Toby retorted, raising his voice. "You _think_ she's alive! And I think she's dead! And we're doing what we both think is right!"

"You're being stupid!" Fey screamed.

"I'm being _smart!"_ Toby shot back.

"No, you aren't!"

"Yes, I am!"

"No, you _aren't!_"

"Yes, I _am!_"

"Idiot!"

"Idiot times infinity!"

"You want me to leave? Fine!" Fey turned around quickly for the door.

"I don't even care!" Toby yelled. "Go ahead and die up there!"

"I think I will! I'll tell mom you were too _scared _to come!"

"It's going to be hard to tell her when you're six feet under!"

The two siblings stood there, breathing heavily. Neither of them moved as the anger slowly dissipated from the room.

Fey let out a breath. "So you're serious about this, Toby?"

"I am."

She walked closer to him, slowly, tears welling up in her eyes. "What about me? I've...I've looked all this time for you...I've spent three years looking for you, and now you're saying you're going to leave me?"

"You can stay with me, Fey," Toby said hopefully. "We could live together!"

Fey's look fell even farther. "I can't," she whispered. "I want to go home. I need to go home."

"So this is...goodbye, then?" Toby asked, his voice barely above silence.

Fey nodded, squinting her eyes shut to try to push back tears. Brother and sister walked forward and embraced for the last time.

"Goodbye, Fey."

"Goodbye, Matthew."

* * *

"What mistake?" Cameron refused to look at Multikirby now. "What mistake could I have made to deserve this?"

"I can't tell you."

"Why not?"

"I just can't. I'm sorry," Multikirby said, sitting down.

Cameron knew that it was useless pressing the matter. He sat down next to Multikirby. They sat beside each other in silence for a long time.

"...So what happens now, then?" Cameron asks.

Multikirby looked up at him. "You stay here, I guess."

"And you?"

"I'm...I'm not even here right now, Cam."

"What?"

"And neither are you."

Cameron stood up. "What?!"

"You're just pixels, Cameron. You only exist as words on a page. I'm writing every word you say right now. And I'm just a projection of my actual self behind the computer. I'm not actually talking to you."

Cameron began to back up. "No..."

"I'm sorry...but this is the way it has to be. I'm only writing this because I cherish realism in the plot. And...it's finished," Multikirby said finally. "I'm really sorry, Cam, but...this is how it has to be."

"No! Multi, don't leave! Please!"

Multikirby gave him a sad smile. "Don't worry. You'll have company soon."

And suddenly he disappeared, leaving Cameron alone in the empty whiteness.

* * *

Toby looked at his sister for the last time before the door closed with a quiet _click_. He walked back and sat on his bed. He'd made the right decision. This was the right choice. It was what Matthew would have done.

So why did he feel so sad?

He picked up the journal and flipped through the pages, reading through everything he and his alternate personalities had gone through since the beginning. There was still so much unexplained. But he'd have all the time in the world to figure it out.

Deciding to tell the others the news, he opened the journal and began to write.

* * *

"Okay, guys, I've weighed all the options, and...I think it's the best idea to stay in Wyvern," Toby wrote. "Fey and I said goodbye to each other, and she's gone up to Corfort alone. I know it seems wrong, but I know that it'll be better for all of us this way. It's safer. So I've decided we're staying here, okay?"

"...You best be jesting, Toby," Adrian replied. "That had better be some kind of sick joke."

"Toby you didn't really say that stuff did you?" David asked. "When's Fey coming?"

"No, he isn't kidding," Daphne wrote, smiling the entire time. "Fey's come and gone. Matthew made the right choice."

"Matthew made-" Alice's jaw dropped. "_You didn't."_

"Toby...?" Mia wrote slowly. "Toby, you don't actually think you're Matthew, do you? Wait. No. That came out wrong. We can't be certain that you're the original."

"...I'm sorry, but I just feel like I _know," _Toby tried to explain. "It's hard to pinpoint why, but...I just _know_."

"Ooh, so do I!" Adrian mocked. "I have this feeling deep inside! I'm Matthew! My heart tells me, so I know it just _has _to be true! Don't you think so?"

"Toby, I don't think I have to tell you that you're being an idiot," Tristan said caustically.

"We're all Matthew, Toby. We're all Matthew equally, right?" Alice tried to pacify the situation. "That makes sense, right? We're all one eighth of Matthew."

"You and I both know that's crap, Alice," Daphne replied. "Someone was here first. One of us is the original person that this traumatized brain belongs to. The rest of us are results of a disease."

"You're trying to start a fight..." David pointed out. "Why?"

"If you think you're Matthew, Toby," Tristan said lowly, "I can prove you aren't."

"Dude, I know you think you're some hot shot after facing off against Linden, but don't oversell yourself," Adrian retorted.

"I think we're all important," Toby tried to defend himself. "I just think that I'm the original. Am...I not allowed to think that?"

"You aren't allowed to overrule the rest of us based on an assumption you don't have any substantial evidence for!" Mia scolded. "Fey is gone because of you, and the rest of us were going to go with her! But because Daphne gave you a power trip, she's going alone! And we're _never going to see our family again!_"

"In all honesty, most of our family is probably dead," Daphne added.

"Toby, let me ask you this." Tristan fiddled with the pen in his stub before he came up with a good question. "If you really were Fey's younger brother, and you really grew up with her in the hard times with your dad being sick, and you losing your voice...if the two of you developed that bond - and Matthew and Fey did have that bond, as evidenced by the fact that she spent three years looking for a way to get back to you - then why did you abandon her on a quest you thought to be both pointless and life-threatening? Why did you leave her alone when she clearly wanted you to come with her? Why did you let her go in lieu of two complete strangers whom are said to be dangerous by everyone close to you? Would Matthew do that?"

* * *

Toby stared at the words on the page. He felt as if a stone slab had settled itself over his heart, crushing it further and further into oblivion. Tristan...he was right. Matthew would have gone with Fey, if for no other reason than to help her through. Matthew wouldn't have abandoned his sister.

But he did.

"Oh...oh, no...what have I done...?" Toby's entire being was filled with guilt as he realized he had taken his sister away from his friends.

The guilt ate away at Toby as the gravity of his decision sunk in. He drove his face into the pillow on his bed and screamed. Breaking into heavy sobs, he kicked and punched the bed, yelling his vocal cords hoarse. After he couldn't speak, Toby resorted to weeping. He spent what felt like an eternity of remorse on that bed as it slowly became soaked in his tears.

Finally, he sat up. He felt empty, hollow. He didn't deserve to be here. He wasn't a part of the body. He'd caused everyone harm. He'd hurt them. He couldn't be here anymore.

And so he didn't resist when he felt something pulling him back. And he didn't resist when he got the feeling he would never surface again.

* * *

Fey wiped away the tears in her eyes as she left Wyvern. This was it. She was leaving her brother here. If he could survive...good on him, but...

Looking back at the once-bustling village, Fey took a deep breath. Matthew was there. And she'd never see him again. It was painful...

But he had had a point. Her mother was unstable from the beginning. Every second she wasted being sentimental was another second her mother spent alone. And she couldn't bear that. So, keeping a stiff upper lip, Fey set out for the river.

The journey was quiet, filled with self-reflection. All that time she had spent looking for Matthew...it was gone. This is what had resulted from it. Fey was leaving him in this world alone. Her younger brother...

Though was he? Really? They had both grown quite a bit during the time they've been here. They'd both changed. But Matthew had changed the most. He...was that orange puffball in the clinic even her brother anymore? There were eight of them...eight people in his body...

No. That wasn't even his body. It was...a vehicle. Some sort of vehicle for the disorder. Those eight personalities that have hold of that body...she'd never thought about it much, but...

_Which one is Matthew?_

Then another thought occured to her.

_Are _any_ of them Matthew...?_

Looking back on her life on Earth, she knew her brother. He was very...complicated. Even before coming here, he seemed to have different sides to him. But then again, who didn't? Even Fey herself acted differently depending on who she was with.

"I guess everybody has Multiple Personality Disorder in a way," Fey said aloud as she walked through the frozen field. The snow that was falling in Wyvern had long since dispersed, giving a feeling of stasis among the grey landscape before her. The world, for that moment, was silent, inhabited only by Fey and her footsteps, crushing the icy grass below her. Eventually the small crunches were accompanied by a distant roar.

The river.

She could see it now. There was a gap in the scenery, a gap that heralded the presence of the raging rapids. Upon approaching the monochrome waters, she realized with dismay that the level had risen since she had last been here. Not only that, but the current seemed much too strong for her to swim through safely.

Her view was pulled to the small hill that ended in a cliff above the river. If she could build up speed, she may be able to jump the gap. She slowly climbed up the hill and looked at the waters below. Bubbles of air swirled below her in a demented dance, threatening to swallow her up and chill her core until there was nothing left.

She was understandably apprehensive about this. She turned around to give herself room to run up and build speed.

Fey's eyes widened as she saw Matthew running towards her. "You came!" she yelled happily, waiting for him to catch up at the top of the hill.

But as he came closer, Fey began to notice something...unnatural about him. Just the way he carried himself. It was nobody she had ever seen before in his body. He walked up to Fey with a strange look in his eyes.

Suddenly, with a swift kick, she was hanging off the ledge, over the grey rapids, screaming.

"MATTHEW!" She tried to make herself heard over the rapids. "HELP ME UP!"

But Matthew shook his head. He placed his foot on Fey's stub, and began to press down. There was an evil glint in his eye as he bent down.

"It's nothing against you, Fey..." she whispered. "I want them to suffer..."

And with a painful grind against the frozen grass, Fey fell into the rapids below.

"_NOOOOOO!"_

Water was everywhere. Fey panicked, trying madly to surface, but the uncontrollable currents of the water disoriented her, removing her sense of direction. The absolute cold of the water chilled her to the bone, stiffening any movements she made. She cried out in pain as she struck an outstanding rock in the riverbed, depleting her of what little air she had left. Flailing her limbs, hoping against hope to grab onto something...

Water began to fill her lungs as Fey began to feel lightheaded. Her movements became more and more sluggish, her struggles becoming more and more subdued, until as Fey took her final breath, they stopped altogether.

Fey Choreman was dead.

* * *

Fey woke up gasping for breath. She rubbed her eyes free of any of the frigid river water that was left, and looked around. There wasn't that much to see...there was only white...

_W__hite...and a boy._

"No...no, you can't be...he __killed __you!? No! No, no, no!"

This boy was a teenager, and from the looks of it, he had been crying. He seemed absolutely distraught to see her here.

"No...You're dead? You can't be dead!" he murmured as he sank to his knees on the blank ground.

"What's going on here?"

He raised his head to look at Fey. "I'm...I'm so sorry. This is my fault."

"Who are you?"

"My...my name is Multikirby. I brought you to where you were. I put you through a lot of what you just experienced. And...I killed you."

"W-What? I'm dead?"

"Y...Yes. You're dead. We're dead. I'm...I'm so...so...sorry."

_**TO BE CONTINUED...**_


End file.
